


Labor of Love

by FireflySummerwynd



Category: Poison (US Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:53:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 35,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26083741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireflySummerwynd/pseuds/FireflySummerwynd
Summary: Having grown up poorer than dirt and been in a band for nigh on a decade now, 25-Year-old Bobby Dall's no stranger to hard, back-breaking work. In fact, he's oft described as the slave-driver of that aforementioned band. After all, he's usually the one forced into dragging his band mates outta bed to get cracking, whether it's in the studio to record or out on the road for a tour.That being said, he's not expecting himself and his band matesta go to bed in their shared apartment after getting off the road from a tour, only to wake in what should be an Antique cabin. He's not expecting to realize that he, Bret, and Rikki've all Time Traveled over a Century in their sleep. And he'sdefinitelynot expecting to realize that they've turned up in the home of a young woman the entire nearby Town's scared shitless of.But as it turns out, young Marissa Stanton's not as bad as the townsfolk'd have them believe. She turns out to be every bit the Witch that the townsfolk say she is, but she uses her Power for good, not evil. And she's actually just the kinda girl Bobby's been looking for, in terms of a Romantic partner.
Relationships: Bobby Dall/Marissa Stanton
Kudos: 1





	1. Prologue

_July, 1989_

_Los Angeles, California_

Twenty-five-Year-old Bobby Dall let out a groan that was equal parts pleasure and pain as he flopped on his bed after Hell-only-knew how long. At this point, he was lucky to even remember his own name, let alone how long it’d been since he’d last seen the place he currently called home. Despite the fact that he shared it with his band mates–front man and rhythm guitarist Bret Michaels, lead guitarist CC DeVille, and drummer Rikki Rockett–he was just glad to be here. So many months on the road could really take it outta a guy, as he’d learned on their first serious tour and only had reinforced this Time around.

Said front man–who’d turned twenty-six just a few months ago–couldn’t help a soft laugh as he entered the bedroom they shared. Met with the sight of his lone brunette band mate sprawled out on his bed with his face buried in his pillow and his ass up in the Air, he couldn’t help but laugh. Then again, that was most likely in part due to the delirium of having been on tour for what’d seemed like forever before their final show in New Zealand.

That lone brunette rolled his eyes as he tossed both hands up without bothering to lift his head, his middle fingers deftly raised in an all-too-familiar gesture. His friend burst into louder laughter as he followed his lead by dropping his suitcase at the foot of his bed and all but Swan-diving onto it. All of them were just as glad as the othersta be home, even though they knew it’d be only a short Time before their record label was wanting them back in the studio. Course, even if the record label _didn’t,_ doubtless the band themselves would–they were fairly Creative bastards, after all. Once that itch hit, there was simply no scratching it till they unleashed their Creativity, whether individually or collectively.

Considering that they were all drop-dead exhausted for the moment, it was no surprise that even the other pair of blondes were quick to fall asleep. Now that they’d finished out their tour without anybody dying–in an accident, at their own hands, or at the hands of another–it was Time to catch up on some rest. And well-deserved rest it was, too, considering all the shit they’d put up with after leaving for tour over a Year ago.

The thing that none of them were expecting was for the apartment to damn near be empty again when they all woke–in different Times and places.


	2. One

_July, 1839_

_Tellico, Tennessee_

Yet another Day Began the same as all the others–at the ass-crack of Dawn to the crowing of the Rooster. Twenty-Year-old Marissa Stanton groaned as she pushed herself upright so she could toss her legs over the edge of her bed. Whether she wanted to or not, there’d be no getting back to sleep once the Rooster started his crowing, and she knew it. He was simply too noisy for pretty much anybody to sleep through, and there was always work to be done, too.

After dragging on the shirt and breeches no other woman–well, one who _wasn’t_ a Sister Witch, that is–dared to don, the young woman grabbed her boots. The next thing on her list was a trip to the outhouse since she refused to use a chamber pot any more than she had to. Her noise wrinkled at the mere Thought since they were disgusting to empty later.

However, she was more than a lil startled when she’d climbed down the ladder that led to the loft she slept in. The small cabin she called home was empty aside from herself when she’d gone to bed the Night previous. But much to her surprise this Morn, there were three bodies piled up in what amounted to her parlor floor. It was almost impossible to tell if they were males or females, due to their long hair and manner of dress.

With one hand at the ready since she commanded Power many’d kill to wield, Marissa gently toed the body closest to her. The body squirmed in response, the displeased groan it let out too deep to’ve been emitted by a woman.

“Get up from there and identify yourself,” the young woman demanded, prodding the man again just above his knee.

“What the–” the man grumbled, apparently realizing something was amiss and moving to push himself up.

“Huh–What?” the taller of the blondes next to him asked as he woke with a snort.

“Rikki, what the hell’re ya laying on me for?” his shorter, equally blonde companion asked. “You’ve your own bed.”

“What the fuck!?” The one apparently named Rikki sat up so fast, he accidentally head-butted the one she’d toed awake.

“Damn it, Rikki!” he snapped, his hand rising to his mouth. “I’d like to keep my teeth, not eat them for breakfast!”

“Argue amongst yourselves later.” Marissa’s hands crackled as they all turned shocked looks up at her. “Identify yourselves, or be blown apart, no traces left to be found.”

“I dunno why your hands’re crackling like that, but settle down,” the shorter blonde said as he sat up.

That only sparked her Ire even more, making the crackling grow louder.

“Look, we dunno who _you_ are, either,” he pointed out. “Or how ya got into our apartment.”

“Apartment?” the young woman asked, looking confused as the crackling settled slightly.

“Ya know, a type of dwelling?” the taller blonde countered, cocking a brow at her.

“I dunno of the dwelling type of which y’all speak, but you’re certainly not in one,” Marissa said. “You’re in my cabin, and seconds away from Death, if y’all don’t identify yourselves.”

The trio of men turned looks that were equal parts shocked and confused on each other. None of them’d realized they weren’t in their apartment, but a quick look around proved this young woman’s words true. Not only that, but it Enlightened them to the fact that they were missing a face–that of their lead guitarist.

“Let’s just play along for now,” Bobby hissed. “She might _break_ my leg instead of just bruising it, if she toes me again.”

The blondes didn’t try to argue with him as he turned around to face her.

“My name’s technically Robert, but everybody calls me Bobby,” he said once he’d pushed his hair outta his face. “These two’re Bret and Rikki.”

“I’m assuming that’s supposed to be short for _Richard?”_ the young woman asked, her own brow cocked.

“It is, yeah,” Rikki answered with a nod.

“Marissa,” she said, her hands finally ceasing to crackle like a Fire. “Now, how’dja get into my cabin?”

Looking around again, none of them saw any broken windows, busted doors or anything of the sort. In fact, what seemed to be the only door–interior _or_ exterior–was locked from the inside. Or maybe they should be saying bolted since this didn’t look like any kinda lock they’d ever seen.

“Well, I guess the answer to that’s that we honestly dunno,” the bassist sighed, pushing himself to his feet.

Marissa’s eyes widened as she realized just how tall he was once he was on his feet.

“We just got home from a tour, and all of us–even our missing buddy–passed out pretty quick,” he continued.

“Missing buddy?” the young woman queried, looking confused.

“There’s supposed to be four of us,” Bret answered.

“Our friend’s about your height, blonde hair that’s almost white,” the last of them chuckled.

Again, her eyes widened as they rose and she realized the shorter blonde was maybe a couple inches taller than herself, his friend a couple inches taller than that.

“So, we went to bed in our own apartment, but woke up here,” the lone brunette concluded.

_“Mmm…”_ She seemed thoughtful as she glanced around all of them.

“My question–why the hell’dja decide to live here?” Bobby asked curiously. “This place looks pretty old to me.”

“It’s not old, not for 1839,” the young woman said. “It was just built last Year when I got run outta Town for being a Witch.”

None of the guys seemed surprised by her admitting to being a Witch as much as they were by the Year she’d specified. Then again, they’d assumed they were still in 1989 like they’d been upon going to bed. Finding out they’d gone to bed and not only woken in a strange place with a strange woman, but in a completely different Time period was more than a bit of a shock to all their systems.

Marissa didn’t seem to find them a threat anymore, prolly due to how shocked they obviously were. Careful not to hurt any of them, she pushed past the trio and unbolted what turned out to be her front door. What else could it’ve been since it led outside to what was obviously a porch?

Startled by the Thought that she was leaving them, Bobby managed to grab her arm and halt her. He wasn’t expecting her to snort and tell him that she was off to the outhouse when he asked where she was going. Course, he hadn’t wanted to believe he’d gone back in Time by over a Century, and he still didn’t. But being told she’d an outhouse, rather than a bathroom could be explained only two ways. Either she was an off-grid homesteader in 1989, or they really _had_ Time Traveled back into a past Century.

If they’d actually Time Traveled, how the fuck were they supposed to get back home to the Time period they belonged in?


	3. Two

After taking trips of their own to the outhouse, which they all thought was downright disgusting, the trio of men joined their hostess for breakfast. Their heads all pounded with a hangover, which was quickly cured by some herbal, but horrible-tasting concoction she gave them. None of them quite knew what to make of her cooking on an old-fashioned Wood stove, but they were grateful that the food was no more burnt than it woulda been, if cooked on an electric or gas stove.

Once breakfast’d been consumed and Rikki’d taken care of the dishes–which seemed to surprise the young woman–they all headed back outside. Knowing they weren’t used to the Lifestyle she lived and were feeling unwell on top of it, Marissa delegated relatively easy tasksta them. Bret decided on working with the pair of Horses she owned since he was used to such Animals, the taller blonde settling on feeding her Pigs and Chickens. This left their brunette friend with the choice of helping her in the Garden and Orchard, or cleaning the house.

He couldn’t explain why, but Bobby felt an attraction to this woman the second he’d clapped eyes on her. Technically being engaged with a wedding date set in three months didn’t matter to him. After all, he wasn’t in 1989 anymore, and he may never get to go back to his own Time.

Since he’d no other way to explore this attraction, he decided on helping in the Garden and Orchard. At least she’d get more done during what seemed like nowhere near enough Daylight to get it all done in. With extra hands, there’d be more weeding and other care administered to the plants since there really wasn’t much to harvest yet.

“So, didja _really_ get run outta Town for being a Witch?” he asked, having shortened his stride to walk beside her.

“Unfortunately,” the young woman answered. “Only one dares come anywhere near my Land’s borders, and that’s only ’cuz he’s a fellow Witch.”

“Wait, I thought Witches were female,” Bobby said as he looked down at her.

“On the contrary,” she chuckled. “Witches’re those of the Light, whether male or female–Warlocks’re those of the Dark.”

“All right, so this one guy’s the only one who comes near ya,” the bassist mused. “So, are ya _really_ a Witch, or is that just one of the misunderstandings of the Times?”

“It’s no misunderstanding,” Marissa answered. “The Craft’s in my very blood, just like it was for my Ancestors before me.”

“Eh, not like I really care, as long as ya don’t cast any spells on me,” he chuckled. “I’ma Christian man, but I’ve always been more of a _live-and-let-live_ type.”

“One of the most fundamental Pagan teachings,” the young woman told him with a grin. “Do no harm, but take no shit.”

Bobby couldn’t help a laugh as they walked through the gate of her edible Garden. “The way ya talk, I feel like I’m still in 1989.”

“What?” Her jaw dropped in shock as she closed that gate.

“Yeah, that’s the Year it’s supposed to be for me, Bret, and Rikki,” the bassist explained. “That’s why we nearly choked on our own spit when ya said we’re in 1839.”

“Dear Gods,” Marissa breathed. “I’ve Dreamt that I’d meet someone from another Time soon, but I didn’t think there was any Truth to it.”

As they started checking over her plants, which was pretty much a typical Garden to him, she explained what she meant. Many of her Dreams were actually Visions, oft predicting things before they actually happened. One such recent Dream’d been that she wasta meet a strangely-dressed man from another Time. She’d never gotten a good look at the man’s face, but she knew a few things about him. He was relatively tall, so skinny that he seemed sickly, and had long, Dark hair that oft seemed to stand on End.

The bassist laughed as he managed to hold his hair up more or less like it was when he teased it up. Her eyes widened as she told him that was exactly the odd hairstyle the guy’d sported in her Dreams. She couldn’t figure out how he managed to get his hair to do that, yet look relatively clean for the Life of her.

Bobby grinned as he told her that it was a trick of the Future, knowing she wouldn’t understand the concept of hairspray. Hell, she prolly wouldn’t understand the concept of electricity, if he tried explaining that to her. There was no way in Hell he’d get her to understand Futuristic things without being able to show her what he meant. Obviously, such a thing wouldn’t happen, if they were actually in 1839 since those things wouldn’t have existed yet.

Looking up when he heard hoofbeats in the distance, he was surprised to see what appeared to be a man on horseback. It obviously wasn’t Bret, ’cuz they’d have heard his friend take off, if he’d saddled up. But this man also had what looked like brown hair from this distance, not blonde.

“Rissa!” he called out after dismounting with the fluid Grace of experience.

“Garden, Richie!” Marissa yelled with a laugh.

The young man followed the Sound of her voice, startled to find that she wasn’t alone. “Who’s this?”

“Says his name’s Bobby,” she answered. “Or rather, Robert.”

He seemed suspicious, even as he held out his hand to him.

“A pleasure,” Bobby said.

_“Mmm,”_ he hummed, accepting the handshake.

“I’m pretty sure Bobby’s been the man in those Dream-Visions I’ve been having lately,” the young woman told him.

“Then he can consider even Richie Kotzen a friend,” he chuckled, a smile finally starting to curve his lips.

The bassist couldn’t find it in himself to relax quite yet, already sensing something unsaid.

“I don’t care what the townsfolk say about her,” Richie said as he turned a laser-intense blue gaze on him. “I’ve seen her Power at work for myself, and I know she uses it for naught but good.”

“Really, now?” he asked, unable to help his Curiosity.

“She helped my sister Dana deliver her husband a fat, healthy son when the Town doctor woulda left her to suffer childbed pains till she expired,” the young man explained, a chill freezing his voice at the memory.

Bobby couldn’t help a shiver any more than she could help a proud, yet somehow humble smile.

“But for all that I know Rissa can take care of herself, don’t think I won’t draw and quarter ya, if I find out thatcha hurt her,” Richie warned him.

“Then ya better make sure you’ve enough Horsesta draw and quarter us, too.”

Turning, they saw that Bret and Rikki’d decided to join them and has apparently heard the young man’s threat. Judging by their expressions, they were glad to hear him standing up for the woman he considered a friend, but didn’t like hearing him threaten theirs. Still, their point was gotten across without anyone going on the Warpath, if only ’cuz the bassist moved to keep his friends at bay.

Marissa was quick to introduce them to Richie, not mincing words by telling them why he was the only person to dare come into her Land. They’d thought she was kidding when she said she was a Witch earlier, but that certainly explained how her hands’d crackled earlier. If she was actually a Witch, she prolly didn’t need a weapon to protect herself like the rest of them no doubt would. She’d be able to take care of herself and hers without needing the help of another–and in ways they couldn’t Begin to fathom.

Since there was naught to be harvested at the moment, the young woman steered the group into her cabin. It was definitely crowded since the structure was tiny, compared to what the Time Travelers were used to, but they managed to make do. They didn’t really have many other choices, if they wanted to get outta the Sun, since they were kinda stuck here.

As she worked on lunch–or rather, dinner–for all of them, the young woman let her impromptu guests explain what they could. Still, none of them really knew anything other than they’d gone to bed in their apartment–in 1989–and awoken here and now. They didn’t have even the Beginning of a theory as to why they’d Time Traveled, and in their sleep at that. Obviously, there’d to be a reason, but–at least, according to her–only the Gods knew what that reason was right now.

“So, whaddaya Intend to do with them?” Richie asked curiously, his fingers laced as he cocked a brow at her. “I mean, assuming it actually happens, you’re kinda stuck with them till the Morrígan or whoever essentially shows up for them.”

“I think this is more of Chronos’ field than the Morrígan’s,” the young Witch laughed. “Then again, maybe she _does_ have something to do with it.”

“Wait, who and the who?” Rikki asked, looking as confused as his friends.

“The Morrígan’s the Celtic Goddess of War, Death, Fate, and Sovereignty, among many other things,” she explained. “Chronos–” She paused long enough to spell out the name. “–ain’t the same as the Titan, but rather the Greek God of Time.”

Even though they were all Christian and terrified of a Warmongering Goddess, they could all get the significance of what she meant.

“So, you’re saying that some Goddess coulda picked us up and put us back down in a completely different Time period?” the taller blonde asked.

“Seems more likely that the God of Time woulda, but it very well coulda been,” Marissa answered, nodding. “I mean, it coulda been Fate that y’all were to meet me in one way or another.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true enough,” Bobby agreed. “And sadly, I think it’d be easier for us to adjust to living a simpler Life than for _you_ to adjust to living our more complicated one.”

The young Witch and her friend both looked as curious as they did confused, which made them chuckle. Bret explained how they’d Lights that didn’t require Candles and matches unless one wanted them, indoor pl-mbing, and much more. Like his brunette friend earlier, he decided it wouldn’t really behoove him to try explaining it in its entirety without a way to show them what he meant.

However, that brought up something that was of great concern to him and his friends. If he were to remain here in the nineteenth Century, it wasn’t gonna be a pretty Ending. Unable to get to the insulin he needed for his diabetes, it wouldn’t be long till his friends were burying him.

Naturally, his friends’ eyes widened as they realized he was right, the other pair looking confused. The shorter blonde offered up a somewhat sad smile, more than happy to explain. In the Time period they’d come from, medicine’d advanced enough that all kindsa diseases’d been identified and could be treated to allow for a longer Life. Diabetes was but one of many diseases that fell into that category, and it could be deadly, if it wasn’t treated properly.

Bret explained that in having that disease–the type he’d been diagnosed with, in particular–he couldn’t process the sugars in anything he ate or drank. Just sating that basic need could kill him as easily and more quickly than _not_ sating it. After all, not eating’d cause him to eventually starve, which his body’d still think was happening without his insulin.

“I mean, that’s part of why I came inside,” he sighed. “Not ’cuz I wanted to be lazy, but ’cuz I’m honestly already not feeling good.”

Bobby pushed his hair back and gently held his left eye open. “His pupils’re already more dilated than they should be for high Noon inside.”

“Dilated?” the young Witch asked.

“The same thing the–uh, mouth of the womb does when a woman’s giving Birth,” he answered, turning his attention back to her. “It means the black spot in the middle of his eye’s open more than it should be right now.”

Her eyes widened as she started to understand what they were trying to say.

“And there’s absolutely nothing that can be done for him?” Richie finally asked.

“Not unless you’ve a spell or something that’ll force his body to start producing something called insulin on its own,” he answered, shaking his head.

“Those who _don’t_ have diabetes make insulin on their own,” Rikki explained. “The organ that makes it in those with the type of diabetes Bret has might as well be dead, for all the good it does them.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” the shorter blonde agreed with a chuckle. “Basically means that I’ma starve to Death, even if I keep eating since I doubt you’ve any kinda spell that’ll help me even short-term.”

A determined look crossed Marissa’s face as she moved to kneel in front of what they’d have normally called an Antique trunk. She said that she honestly didn’t know of any such spell, but one might actually exist. Only looking through the Grimoires of her Ancestors’d answer that question, ’cuz if there _was_ one, that’s where it’d be.

Richie even jumped in to help her with the obviously heavy, leather-bound books she pulled outta the trunk. Looking up at the trio, she advised that Bobby and Rikki just keep an eye on their friend when they weren’t working. It wasn’t that she didn’t want their help with this, but that she doubted they could read Runes. Their expressions when she said that made her and her friend both chuckle, but she certainly had a point since they could only read English.

Left with no other choices, the healthy pair quickly agreed with her plan of action for the Time being. While they wanted Bret to rest so he wouldn’t speed up the inevitable, they knew how stubborn and active he was. Till he was in a diabetic coma, he was gonna do whatever he could for himself and to help out around the cabin. He couldn’t stand sitting around and feeling helpless, after all–that just wasn’t how he was raised.

Bobby bit his lip as he watched her dive into the first book, knowing that his attraction to her took a back seat to this. Without his insulin or some kinda spell that’d help him, the shorter blonde was a goner. Love and sex’d no precedence over his Health, and even the taller blonde knew that.


	4. Three

It took a couple Days for Marissa and Richie to pour over the Ancient books she’d pulled outta that trunk, but they eventually hit paydirt. They turned up a spell that–if performed by an experienced practitioner and with the utmost care–would most likely work. And such a discovery came in just the nick of Time, too, considering how Bret’d deteriorated in just those couple Days.

By that Time, he pretty much couldn’t stay awake, no matter how much coffee was poured down his throat. Unable to break down and use the sugars in what he ate and drank, he simply had no Energy to do anything. Even getting twelve straight hours of sleep didn’t help him, ’cuz he seemed perpetually drunk what lil Time he _could_ stay awake.

Setting up for the Ritual to take place took some Time, but luckily, the shorter blonde managed to hang in there. Given that his mother and sister both worked in healthcare, Bobby was better at checking for a pulse than anyone else. He’d also learned more pulse points, so if he couldn’t find it in one spot, he could try another. But every check of his friend’s pulse revealed the same thing–it was getting weaker and threadier with every passing second. Every breath and heartbeat could very well be his last before they were forced to start digging a hole.

Marissa was soon set up for the potentially Life-saving Ritual, her own friend joining her. They’d set up a Circle around the shorter blonde’s cot, rather than trying to move him. It was easier and better, considering the downhill turn he’d taken and how weak he’d grown.

“This is no doubt to take a couple hours, at the least,” she warned them.

“We’ve to go slowly, or something could go wrong so that the spell only partially works,” Richie explained. “Or it won’t work at all, if we go too quickly and mess something up.”

“Slow and steady wins the race,” Rikki said, somehow managing a chuckle through his obvious worry.

“Yeah, something like that,” the young Witch agreed as she rose.

“Wha–” he started when her hands moved to unbutton the shirt she wore.

“Spell work’s best done Sky-clad,” her friend chuckled, unbuttoning his own shirt. “Nudity allows for Energy to move more smoothly, just like open Fields allow Wind to move more freely than a stand of Trees.”

“Um, okay.” Bobby could feel his face heating up as he rose from the Horse hair sofa. “Just come get me when ya need his pulse checked again, or I’ma be at risk of doing something stupid.”

Without waiting for anyone to respond, he high-tailed it out onto the porch, where he wouldn’t see a thing. He was too attracted to this young woman–too desperate after not getting any action in too long–to avoid making a fool of himself, if he’d stayed. The chances of him fuckin’ up the Ritual by interrupting were too great, and he couldn’t risk that.

Part of him wasn’t surprised when the door opened again a minute or so later, then closed again. But that split second of Light was all that was necessary for him to make out Rikki’s features. He was the only other one with blonde hair since Bret obviously wouldn’t be coming outside.

“You’re hot for her,” the drummer chuckled as he joined him.

“Can ya really blame me?” he asked on a grumble. “I mean, it’s been months since I got my dick wet with anything other than Water.”

“I know the feeling, dude,” Rikki told him. “I don’t normally swing for the brunettes, but I’d certainly take a turn with her, if she’d lemme.”

“I think we’d both have better Luck trying to fuck one of her Sows,” the bassist snickered. “And not ’cuz of whether _she’d_ allow it or not.”

“Yeah, Richie _does_ seem pretty protective of her,” he agreed. “Then again, if she’s being persecuted by the townsfolk and living completely alone, I don’t blame him.”

“Neither do I,” Bobby admitted. “Not that any of us’d hurt her unless it was accidental or something.”

“Oh, I know that, and so do you and Bret,” the drummer said. “But they _don’t_ know that, ’cuz they dunno us from Adam’s fuckin’ house Cat.”

“I guess we’ll just have to see if we wind up stuck here long enough to prove that we’re more apt to join him in protecting Marissa as opposed to hurting her,” he sighed.

Rikki couldn’t help a laugh as he snagged one of the lanterns hanging from a rafter, then stepped down off the porch. As he followed his lone brunette friend, he easily picked up on what he’d more or less left unsaid. He meant that if they could prove they meant her no harm, maybe Richie wouldn’t be opposed to her getting involved with at least one of them. Then again, the Times were drastically different–he may be opposed to such a thing unless marriage was involved, no matter what they did.

Having walked out to the small barn, the bassist hung the lantern from a nail driven into one of the support columns for the roof. Being out here with the Horses and Pigs seemed like a better choice than even being on the porch. Well, that was assuming that they didn’t have their own variant of a dirty Night since that’d tease him just as much.

The Horse she’d introduced as Lightning nickered suspiciously as he slowly approached his stall, his hand held out. Bobby couldn’t help a soft laugh as he let him catch his scent, forcing himself to relax before he accidentally gave this beast the wrong idea. Even a lil tension from being horny could make this thousand-pound, territorial monster perceive him as a threat and go on the attack. Luckily, Lightning just seemed suspicious of him, but still moved to let his mate and foals catch his scent, too.

“Just shows you’re a good mate and daddy,” the bassist chuckled, Rikki joining him.

“Can’t say we’d be any different about protecting our women and kids, if we even _had_ any,” he agreed.

The Stallion snorted at them, and it almost seemed like he’d understood their every word.

“I swear, Animals’re smarter than they seem sometimes,” the drummer laughed. “It’s almost like they understand us, but just can’t respond the way we do.”

“Could be, man,” Bobby said. “But they find ways of getting their points across, all the same.”

That much was proven when the Mare, Thunder, butted her muzzle against his shoulder just enough to make him take a step back to catch himself.

“All right, all right,” he chuckled, reaching up to scratch her ears. “No need to knock me down for a scratch.”

Thunder nickered softly, her mate mimicking her as if approving of his words and actions.

“You’re such a sweetheart, girlie,” Rikki said, taking his turn before turning his attention to the foals.

The pair of misplaced musicians spent the next couple hours in the barn, simply working on gaining the Horses’ Trust. All the Pigs seemed to be asleep and the Chickens were definitely roosting already. It wasn’t that big a surprise, though, considering that it was late enough for the Full Moon to be shining down from high overhead.

Just as they were starting to get tired enough to consider sleeping in the hay, they heard footsteps approaching. Peeking out the barn doors, they saw a shirtless Richie approaching with the other lantern that’d been hanging from the underside of the porch roof.

Apparently, the pair of Witches’d finished out their Ritual, and it already seemed to be a Success. Even compared to a couple hours ago, Bret seemed to be at least a lil more alert, although still tired. That was something that rest and letting the spell’s effects kick in fully oughta cure, though only Time’d truly tell. Only waiting to see what’d happen’d tell them if they’d managed to save his Life, or just buy him a lil more Time for whoever’d brought them here to take him back to 1989.

Bobby and Rikki didn’t exactly care which way it went, as long as their friend managed to survive. Even if he was taken back to the Future and they never saw each other again, they’d be able to die happy men. Still, they wanted to see him and how he was doing for themselves, which the younger brunette’d anticipated. In fact, that was the very reason he’d come to find them since he knew they couldn’t have gone too far.

In the cabin, Bret was propped up on his cot with damn near every pillow and cushion that could be found. His hands rested in his lap, his hairy chest on full display and his head turned slightly toward the door. Those Sky-blue eyes they’d come to love cracked open when he heard the door open, a smile ghosting across his perpetually pursed lips. He didn’t try to push himself up, no doubt as a result of still feeling weak, but he _did_ at least wave at them. That drew sighs of relief from them as they knelt in the floor next to his cot, each one grabbing a hand to gently squeeze.

“We hear you’re feeling better already,” Rikki chuckled as he Returned those gentle squeezes.

“A lil, yeah,” the front man answered, nodding. “Still tired and weak, though.”

“Well, if this spell actually works, that won’t last for long,” he told him.

“And with any Luck, it’ll be permanent,” Bobby agreed. “No more needles just to survive.”

“Fuck, _that’ll_ take some getting used to,” he laughed. “Twenty Years of having to do that to _not_ having to literally overnight’ll be a bit of a shock.”

“Better than the alternative,” the drummer chuckled.

“Yeah, definitely better than _that,_ even if it’s weird at first,” Bret agreed.

“Well, I for one vote that we all get some rest,” Marissa spoke up. She stood next to the Wood stove in what appeared to be naught but a bath robe.

“Definitely a good idea,” Rikki agreed. “It’s been a long Day for all of us.”

“The plan for now’s that Bret take it easy for a couple more Days,” the young Witch told them. “Build up his strength so he can do more than use a chamber pot, _then_ worry about helping out around the homestead.”

“She’s a point, man,” the bassist gently cut him off when he made to argue. “What use’re ya gonna be, if ya pass out or wind up in your grave?”

“Fair enough,” he acquiesced with a sigh.

“Once your strength’s built up enough to get to the outhouse–with or without help–we’ll build up to the harder, more grueling tasks,” she told him.

“In the meantime, I’ma ride home tomorrow for a few different things,” Richie said. “Firstly, to let my own folks know I’m still alive. Secondly, my nephew’ll be a big enough help around here–even my niece will, for that matter.”

“And thirdly, it’ll be easier to alter _your_ clothes so they’ll have more to wear,” Marissa chuckled.

The young man laughed as he agreed that that was true, ’cuz his legs were longer and his shoulders broader than hers. A few seams might have to be pulled and readjusted, but that’d be easier than trying to stuff a grown man into a teenager’s or child’s clothes. Short of those options, their only other one wasta run around Sky-clad or in dresses.

Even Bobby wrinkled his nose at the Thought of running around in a dress, no matter who it’d once belonged to. While he and his band mates were oft said to look more like women, they were most assuredly male. If they’d to drop trow and prove it, none of them were afraid to do so.

With Bret settled for the Night, he and the drummer moved to settle on their own cots. Neither were cruel enough to demand their pillows back from him, even though they’d have sore necks on the morrow. Instead, they just balled up the shirts they took off to use as such since it was better than nothing. They’d get their pillows back once their friend was feeling better and being propped up wouldn’t be quite as beneficial to him as it no doubt was now.

As they were settling in for the Night, Richie saw the young Witch safely upstairs. That meant a hand on her rump as she climbed the ladder leading to her loft, his gaze averted to avoid looking up her robe. He knew she wasn’t interested in him like that, or they’d have handfasted Years ago since they were both Witches. Since she hadn’t so much as kissed him, there was no way they’d ever go that far with each other.

Once everybody else was settled, the youngest man finally moved to start blowing out Candles and lanterns. He’d already bolted the door after fetching Bobby and Rikki, so there was no need to double-check it. A single Candle remained burning as he divested himself of his robe, folded it neatly, and left it in the floor by his cot. The Sounds of Crickets and the others’ slow, even breathing were what lulled him to sleep once he’d pulled the covers over himself. But despite being exhausted, he still slept lightly so he could keep an ear out for Bret.


	5. Four

Over the next week, Bret slowly recovered to the point that he even took a swing at poor Richie for trying to keep him confined to the cabin. His friends couldn’t help snickering as he managed to dodge the dazing blow, both knowing all too well how he was. The shorter blonde was far too Independent for his own good sometimes–he _hated_ being waited on hand and foot like an invalid unless necessary. But he always put those he loved and cared about above himself, even if he shared no blood with them.

Marissa chuckled as she made her friend cease and desist before he actually took a blow, and in front of his niece and nephew, at that. Said blonde looked contrite when he realized there’d been children present, quick to apologize for scaring them, if nothing else. Luckily, the Witch they considered an aunt’d already explained why he’d tried to hit their uncle, and they were equally quick to forgive.

After allowing him to get dressed and take a trip to the outhouse–on his own, no less–everybody settled for breakfast. The bassist was still fighting his attraction to her, so he focused wholly on his food. If he so much as dared look up from his plate, he was no doubt to make a fool of himself.

With breakfast consumed and the young Witch cleaning up with the help of Richie’s niece, the menfolk headed outside. Bret was insistent upon working with the Horses again, ’cuz it was one of the things he enjoyed as much as Music. Given that none of them’d any accessta their instruments, they wouldn’t be making any of _that_ anytime soon, so he’d to go with another great Love. Aside from Horses, his other biggest Passions were sports and guns, neither of which were available to him.

In the barn, Bobby somewhat literally took the reins by taking said Horses out to the pasture. That’d allow them to graze and keep the humans safe while they were mucking their stalls. He still wasn’t too happy with that, but at least he didn’t try to fight him on it _too_ much.

“Look, I know ya don’t want the help,” the bassist told him as he unbuttoned his shirt, his wavy hair tied back.

“Considering I’ve cared for more than four Horses on my own before,” Bret grumbled, even as he followed his lead.

“Just humor me, man,” he sighed, draping said shirt over one of the stall doors. “’Cuz I’m doing this for you as much as myself.”

“Oh, really?” That caught the front man’s attention and made him cock a brow curiously.

“If I don’t work myself into exhaustion, I’ma do something that I’ma regret later,” Bobby told him. “If not ’cuz I beat myself up about it, then ’cuz Marissa or Richie makes me regret it. ”

“Oh, ho,” he chuckled as they grabbed shovels. “So, you’re hot for the Witch, huh?”

“Don’t even try to tell me you’re _not_ as horny as Satan, himself,” the bassist told him. “’Cuz I’ll know you’re lying out your ass, if ya do.”

“I’m not gonna deny it,” Bret swore. “But I’m not too sure I’d go after a Witch, even if she _did_ save my Life.”

He couldn’t help a chuckle as he admitted that he was definitely wary of the Power she and even Richie so obviously commanded. But at the same Time, he wasn’t scared of her since he could tell she was a peaceful woman. Marissa wasn’t gonna hurt any of them unless by accident or ’cuz she’d been given reason to.

To that End, Bobby saw no reason to let religious differences come between them, if they really wanted to be together. For fuck’s sake, she’d taken them in when she coulda just thrown them to the Wolves. She’d saved his friend’s Life, even with the help of _her_ friend, when prolly no one else of the Time could. If she hadn’t stepped up to the plate, so to speak, he’d no doubt be six feet under with a simple cross marking his grave right now.

Bret realized he’d a point with all of that when he thought deeply about everything he’d said. Sure, the woman was a Fearsome one with the Power she wielded, that was true. However, it was up to her and no one else whether that Power was used for good or evil.

Looking at things like that, he realized that religious beliefs really didn’t have any standing in a Romantic relationship. Well, not unless one or both involved parties let it, and it was pretty obvious that the bassist wasn’t gonna. He may not convert to Paganism for himself, but he was pretty sure she wouldn’t care about that. As long as he respected her beliefs and practices, he was pretty sure she’d do the same for him in Return.

“But I’m not looking to get myself hanged, damn it,” Bobby told him, grunting as they worked.

“Yeah, ’cuz I’m pretty sure that’s what’d happen, if ya raped anyone in this Time period,” the front man agreed with a grunt of his own.

“Not to mention I find willing partners more entertaining,” he continued.

“As damn well both of y’all should.”

Pausing in their tasks, they looked up to see that Richie’d joined them and was unbuttoning his own shirt.

“Rissa’s made it quite clear that she’s a mind of her own and can make decisions for herself,” the young man told them. “I won’t deny loving her, but it goes no further than friendly, familial at best.”

Neither were quite sure what to say to that, so they kept their mouths shut.

“If Rissa’d wanted me like that, we’d have been handfasted Years ago,” he continued with a chuckle.

“Handfasted?” the bassist asked, confused.

“Think of it like a typical marriage, just without paper and a minister,” Richie laughed. “It’s Pagan, and the only way besides a child she’d ever consider bonding herself to a man.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Bret mused.

“Well, just ’cuz she and I aren’t handfasted doesn’t mean I don’t care about her,” the young man warned them. “Treat her right, and I’ll let her make her own decision–raise a hand to her, and I’ll chop that hand off like firewood. Understood?”

“Clearly,” Bobby swore, nodding. “Not that Mom and my own Ancestors’d do anything but torment me for Life, if I did such a thing.”

The front man agreed, saying that they and even Rikki’d been raised better than to hit a woman. Even if said woman deserved it, they’d just as soon let her beat them senseless as raise a hand to her. If they _did_ do such a thing, it’d be purely outta instinct, not conscious Thought.

Richie seemed pleased enough with that as he moved to start dealing with the Chicken coop. Said structure was worse than the Horse stalls and the outhouse combined on a hot Summer’s Day like today. It took a being with a very strong constitution to be able to handle it, and the Futuristic trio could safely say that they _couldn't_ handle it. At least they were honest about being likely to lose their breakfast, if they tried, though.

Before he could walk off, Bobby gently grabbed his arm, a bit of a torn look on his face. He told him that if there was one thing he oughta know, whether he told Marissa or not, it was that he was technically already engaged. The youngest man seemed confused, which made him wrack his brain for a few moments.

“I think the wordja use here in 1839’s _betrothed,_ if you’re confused by _engaged,”_ the bassist chuckled.

“If you’re already betrothed, then why wouldja even be interested in Rissa?” he asked, his jaw dropping.

“Look, at the End of the Day, I’m just a guy–I still have needs, too,” Bobby laughed, quickly sobering. “But let’s say I’m stuck here indefinitely, never to Return to 1989–why be miserable when I can find another woman to love and even build a family with?”

“I suppose that’s true enough,” the young man acquiesced. “You’ve no idea how y’all got here, nor how to get back, after all.”

“And if we _can’t_ get back to 1989, finding a willing partner’s preferable to rape,” Bret chuckled. “They’re more fun, and besides, they won’t get us hanged.”

“Definitely better than getting hanged or spending a Lifetime alone when I coulda had someone besides Mishy all that Time,” the bassist agreed.

Richie gave him a bit of a hard look, but said he’d mention thista Marissa, if she brought up being attracted to him again. If there was anything she was bigger on than Respect, it was Courage and Honesty. This might be a relationship-killer before a relationship could ever Begin, but she’d rather he be honest with her–even if it was through a proxy.

Bobby seemed surprised by what he said, if only ’cuz of the way he’d implied that the young Witch’d voiced an attraction to him before. The young man laughed as he swore she’d the desire of a typical Pagan, but the ability to hide it like a nun when she wanted to. If she wasn’t ready to talk about such things, not even the dynamite used in local mines was gonna get her to open up. He’d have better Luck using his head to drive nails without drawing blood, if he were honest.

The bassist cracked up at the mere Thought, quick to say that while he was oft an idiot, he wasn’t quite _that_ stupid. He rather liked keeping his head intact and his fluids within his body unless he was taking a piss. Well, that went for vomiting unless he was truly sick, too, in all Honesty.

Having talked out those things, they more or less went their separate ways so they could get back to work. Marissa’d since come out with the lil girl, whom she’d taken to the Garden with her. Rikki and the girl’s brother were dealing with the Orchard since the drummer could help him climb the Trees without getting hurt, if necessary. The only other thing on the list that’d have to be tackled tomorrow was hunting, and that was simply ’cuz Richie’d to retrieve weaponry from home so they could.

Early the next Morn, Bobby and Rikki found themselves out in the Woods near Marissa’s cabin. Each carried a rifle, just like the young leader of their hunting party and his even-younger nephew. Almost unbelievably, the boy’d proven to be a crack shot for what turned out to be a tender eight Years old during some target practice before leaving so they could check their weapons. His uncle was clearly proud of him, almost as if he were the boy’s father, which made said boy beam.

All four of them were careful to keep quiet as they made their way through the Woods, all their eyes and ears peeled. The youngest man soon stopped them with a single hand gesture, making the newcomers cock their brows. He suggested they split up–the bassist with himself, the drummer with his nephew–so they wouldn’t make as much noise.

The boy–whose name was Jason–was an experienced enough hunter that he’d be able to track just about anything. He’d really just need the blonde for muscle, were he to take down something like a Deer. Even field-dressed and cut into smaller chunks, he’d only need help lugging it back as opposed to actually making the kill. Neither of the others could really argue that kinda point and were pretty quick to agree.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not the _only_ reason ya picked me to come with ya instead of Rikki,” Bobby said once they were alone together.

“Can ya blame a man for wanting to get to know the one who could very well become a brother-in-law of sorts better?” the younger man asked, a smirk curving his lips.

“Not like it’s a covert military operation, kid,” the bassist snickered as they continued on. “I’m only a dodgy bastard in my Time ’cuz being a rock star can be dangerous at Times.”

“A what, now?” Richie asked, cocking a brow at him.

“Ya know how pretty much everybody but babies and young children know who the President is?” he countered.

“Well, yeah–there’s a certain amount of fame there,” the younger man answered.

“Movie and rock stars’re much the same in 1989,” Bobby explained. “I get recognized a lot by folks I dunno just from walking down the street, so I tend to be pretty Secretive about my private Life.”

“I’d imagine that’d just make the Curiosity worse,” the younger man mused.

“It does for the most part, but it’s kinda fun to hear some of the shit fans cook up to fill in the blanks,” he admitted with a grin.

“Like what?” Richie asked.

“That I’m queer as a three-dollar bill and hiding a boyfriend at home,” the bassist chuckled. “Or that I’m _really_ snogging and fuckin’ one of the guys, but neither of us’re admitting it.”

“Okay, not sure what _snogging_ is supposed to be, but I can see why sitting back and listening to the gossip could be amusing,” he admitted, a grin of his own splitting his face.

Bobby was forced to bite back laughter as he continued by saying that while he didn’t know him very well, he could already tell he’d no interest in his friends like that. If he’d so lil interest in the blondes with him, he didn’t imagine he’d hold much more of an interest in the third blonde who _wasn’t_ with them. Course, he might be mistaken in that assumption since said blonde wasn’t here to observe their interaction.

The bassist assured him that he was no more interested in CC than he was Bret or Rikki. If his own cock barely interested him, he couldn’t understand why another man’s would, and he certainly wasn’t interested in an ass. Not even a woman’s ass interested him in terms of actually fuckin’ it versus just looking and admiring its Beauty.

Falling quiet as Richie seemed to catch a trail, they Silently agreed that any other such talk was better saved for later. They didn’t need anyone getting shot by accident, and they’d need both of them to field-dress anything they managed to bring down. After all, Time’d be of the Essence, if they didn’t want other nearby predators attacking them for their kill, which very well could happen. It wouldn’t be the first Time a hunter’d made such a mistake and lost his Life for making it.

A nearby gunshot brought a grin to both their faces as they realized that Jason or Rikki musta gotten something. That meant at least a lil meat for those living in Marissa’s cabin, which’d be good for all of them. Now, they just hoped they could add to the other team’s catch before tonight.


	6. Five

By the Time September and what Marissa and Richie called the _Witches’ Thanksgiving_ rolled around, it was pretty obvious that no other Time Travel was happening anytime soon. The trio kept waking in the same cots they went to bed in each Night, just like they’d done in their beds previousta their last tour. If they were gonna be taken back to the Time period they truly belonged in, they’d like to think it woulda happened by now.

Just like when they’d gotten home from the _Open Up_ tour, Bret, Bobby, and Rikki were all exhausted. Their mutual exhaustion stemmed from hard physical labor, rather than constant Travel, but they were still exhausted. At least they could all say they were gaining muscle from the constant work, if nothing else.

As the Sun rose on the Morn after _Mabon,_ everybody was awoken by the Rooster’s first crows. Not even Marissa looked forward to hearing that Sound every Morn, if only ’cuz she was a true Witch in that she preferred the Darkness of Night. To that End, she wasn’t surprised to hear a trio of irritated groans from the parlor beneath her. Clearly, none of the men who’d been living with her were ready to get up, either.

“Ow, what the fuck?”

The young Witch cocked a brow upon hearing what sounded like Bobby trip right after an ungodly noise she’d never heard before.

“Holy fuck, _yaaaassss!”_ he cheered moments later.

“Somebody pinch me–I _gotta_ be Dreaming!” Rikki joined in.

“How ’bout a punch to the balls for crawling over me like that?” the shorter blonde grumbled sleepily.

“Keep your hands away from my junk before I Destroy your guitar, asshole,” he laughed.

“Ya better fuckin’ not, especially if it’s my _Every Rose_ guitar!” Bret snapped.

“What on Earth’s going on down here?” Marissa asked, having finally gotten dressed and climbed down her ladder.

Turning to face the trio, who were grinning like giddy children on _Yule_ Morn, she saw several unfamiliar items crowding her already-crowded parlor. It seemed that three of the items were string instruments, but they definitely weren’t pianos. Her first guess’d be lutes, but for some reason, they didn’t quite look like such an instrument to her.

“I guess some Higher Power decided to be niceta us after a couple months’ hard work,” Bobby chuckled. “I doubt we’d have woken up to my bass, Bret’s guitars, and Rikki’s jumbled-up kit, if _somebody_ hadn’t.”

“Do what, now?” she asked, still looking confused.

“A guitar’s kinda like a lute, as far as I know,” the shorter blonde explained, settling his six-string on his thigh.

Marissa’s brows rose in surprise when he started picking out an actual, if unfamiliar tune.

“A bass guitar’s kinda the same–it just hits lower notes,” his brunette friend added as he joined him.

“And as for a kit, think of Native American drums,” Rikki laughed, setting up what’d looked like small barrelsta her.

“Then I’m assuming you’re all musicians,” the young Witch mused. It was a statement, not a question.

Nodding, he explained that they made their living as musicians in 1989. They’d two albums–or collections of songs they’d written–produced for othersta listen to, even when they _weren’t_ actually playing. It was a mind-boggling concept for her–having recorded Music, not their being musicians–but they’d told her medicine’d advanced greatly, so why couldn’t everything else?

As they were setting up and tuning their gear, Marissa headed out to the outhouseta take her turn first. She was actually kinda interested in hearing them play, but Mother Nature was calling her. Not only did she need to relieve herself, but she needed to get her monthly linens in place.

Upon reentering the cabin, she found that Bobby’d gotten his instrument tuned and was ready to take his turn. As he headed out in what he called jeans, she couldn’t resist getting a closer look at his instrument. She’d been curious ever since she’d been told what it was, if only ’cuz she’d never seen such a thing before.

“I wouldn’t actually touch it, if I were you.”

Glancing up at the semi-stern tone, she saw Rikki smirking at her.

“We all treat our gear as if they’re our kids,” he chuckled. “We get pretty possessive over them, kinda like _you_ do with some of your Witchy stuff.”

“Like my Ancestors’ Grimorires,” Marissa mused.

“Well, maybe not quite to _that_ extent,” the shorter blonde laughed. “It’s not like any of these ever belonged to even our parents.”

“But they’re expensive to replace, even in 1989.”

Turning to look over her shoulder, she saw the brunette’d Returned so Bret could take his turn.

“We’re talking at least a couple hundred dollars, maybe more, which’d translate to about fifteen bucks here in 1839,” Bobby said as he settled on a chair that lacked arms.

“Holy Goddess,” the young Witch breathed. “I’m not even sure I wanna know how much a couple hundred today’d translate to in your Time.”

“Roughly twenty-six hundred dollars,” he chuckled. “Or upwards of two thousand, however ya wanna say it.”

“Why so much, though?” Marissa asked.

“Something called _inflation,”_ the taller blonde answered. “The United States is eventually gonna leave what we call the _Gold Standard,_ and a dollar’s not gonna be worth its weight in Gold anymore.”

She couldn’t help but snort as she remarked on how stupid that seemed, which made both of them laugh. Neither denied that it was prolly one of the biggest mistakes the gov’ment’d ever made, that was for sure. They weren’t politicians, though, and their votes counted for only so much, unfortunately.

Bret soon Returned, which allowed Rikki to finally take his turn in the outhouse. Once brought up to speed on the conversation they’d been having, he was quick to agree with their opinions. He definitely thought the gov’ment could make better decisions, but money drove their World.

Moving to start breakfast, the young woman couldn’t resist asking what’d become of the trade-and-barter system also used in 1839. To her dismay, they ruefully informed her that that’d also gone the way of the _Gold Standard_. In fact, many in their Time period seemed to lack common sense as much as practical skills. None of them could concoct herbal remedies like she could, but they _could_ work with Animals and build various things in addition to being musicians.

“Hell, I worked as a carpenter at one point before we met and formed our band,” Bobby admitted. “Not gonna say I’m an architect or anything, but I could pull off building a house or a barn-raising, if I wanted to.”

“Obviously not alone,” the shorter blonde snickered.

“Well, no shit, numb-skull,” he shot back. “That’d take me months, maybe even Years, if I bothered trying!”

Even their hostess giggled at that declaration.

“Otherwise, I’d prolly drop dead of a heart attack before I could finish the job,” the bassist declared.

“Well, instead of arguing that one out, let’s dig in,” Marissa said, thumping down plates. “Then y’all can entertain me while I’m working on more canning since I can tell I’m not gonna get any work outta y’all today.”

Rikki didn’t even try to deny her accusation as he laughed, considering how they’d been itching to play lately. None of them’d been able to scratch that proverbial itch ever since they were picked up and chucked back down in a different Time period. Sure, they were grateful to still be alive, but they were even more grateful to have their Creative outlet back.

As the drummer was taking care of the dishes, Bret and Bobby scrubbing at least part of the laundry, they heard hoofbeats outside. Given how often her neighbor and fellow Witch came over to help out, they weren’t surprised to hear his voice before he’d even stepped onto the porch.

Richie was surprised to see the instruments they’d woken up to that Morn, but he was quick to surprise them. He made a gesture toward the shorter blonde’s six-string, clearly unsure of who to ask for permission to touch it. When Bret nodded, he didn’t bother trying to hide his suspicion, but his jaw dropped when he started playing. Even the rhythm section of his band were shocked by how he made that guitar sing _and_ scream.

“Damn, man!” the drummer crowed, unable to resist clapping.

“I hate to say it, but even _CC’s_ not that good,” Bobby said, joining his friend’s applause.

The young man started to deny their claims, only to be gently cut off.

“Seriously, kid–CC’s lead guitarist ’cuz he’s better than any of the rest of us, butcha just put even _him_ to shame ten Times over,” he told him.

“Wonder how quick Richie could pick up his lead licks?” Bret mused. “I mean, Marissa’s pretty much giving us a free Day, as long as we keep her entertained while she’s canning.”

“But none of our songs’re gonna sound right without lead,” Rikki said, getting where he was going.

“I mean, I can try, if one of y’all can at least show me part of it,” Richie told them.

“Count me out,” the bassist laughed. “I’ma rhythm guy for a reason.”

“And I can barely play a scale without popping a string,” the taller blonde chuckled.

“Gee, thanks for putting me on the spot, guys,” their friend dead-panned as he took his guitar from him.

Settling on the Horse hair sofa where the young man could see, he explained that the lick he’d in mind wouldn’t sound right on the other guitar since it was a twelve-string. All the lead licks were done on a six-string, ’cuz aside from his double-necked guitar, CC couldn’t play anything else. Well, that was as far as any of the others knew, ’cuz that might be one of the many Secrets he kept.

Bobby and the taller blonde almost instantly recognized the song he ripped into as _Fallen Angel,_ which was on their sophomore album. Unbelievably, he managed to pull off even the solo without fuckin’ up, but it obviously wasn’t easy for him.

Taking the six-string again, Richie proved just how good a memory he possessed. He played the lick he’d been shown only the one Time as if he’d been the one to write it. Not only that, but he pulled off the solo even better while still managing his own oddball lil flare. If any of them–even Marissa–tried to say they weren’t impressed by his ability, they’d have been lying out their asses. He was absolutely phenomenal, almost to the point that they Wished he wouldn’t have been long dead in the 1980s.

Once they’d regained their wits, Bret nodded to him and said that particular song was supposed to start with the lead lick. The rest of them’d follow with their respective parts, although his own’d no doubt sound a lil weird. Still, a weird-sounding rhythm riff was better than nothing, so they’d take it.

_“She stepped off the bus and out into the City streets–just a small Town girl with her whole Life packed in a suitcase by her feet,”_ he sang once the lyricsta kick in.

Marissa was definitely amazed, even if she didn’t quite get the meaning of said lyrics.

_“But somehow the Lights didn’t shine as bright as they did…on her mama’s TV screen,”_ he continued, his friends joining him at strategic points as they played. _“And the work seemed hard, Days seemed longer…than she ever thought they’d be…”_

Now she was definitely confused, but she still didn’t dare interrupt them.

_“Butcha know, ya gotta stick to your guns when it all comes down, ’cuz sometimes ya can’t choose–it’s like a-heads they win, tails you’re gonna lose!”_

Somehow, the young Witch could tell that was the End of a verse, even though she was no songwriter.

_“Win big, mama’s fallen angel–lose big, livin’ out her lies… Wants it all, mama’s fallen angel–lose it all, rollin’ the dice of her Life!”_

Even Richie couldn’t help a chuckle at how the taller blonde’s hair flew wildly as he played.

_“Now, she found herself in the fast lane, livin’ Day-to-Day–turned her back on her best friends, yeah, and watched her family slip away…”_

Somehow, the young man got the feeling that was part of the Dark side of being a rock star Bobby was talking about.

_“Just like a lost Soul caught up in a Hollywood scene, all the parties and the limousines… Such a good actress, hiding all her pain–trading her memories for fortune and fame…”_

Even Marissa winced at the Thought of someone doing such a thing.

_“Just a step away from the edge of a fall–caught between Heaven and Hell, where’s the girl I knew a Year ago?”_

The trio who were actually singing launched into what was obviously the chorus. Her friend proved to be a very quick learner, joining them and adding a bluesy Sound for this particular repetition. She’d definitely say it sounded awesome, even though it obviously took the others totally by surprise.

_“Too much, too soon, or just a lil too late? ’Cuz when her ship came in, she wasn’t there–it just wouldn’t wait!”_

Richie ripped into the solo again, grins Returning to the others’ faces as they continued playing. If they hadn’t been impressed before, they certainly woulda been now, that was for sure. Still, they doubted they’d ever get a chanceta really explore working with his level of talent. Either they’d be stuck in 1839 where it’d do no good, or they’d likely be catapulted back to 1989 without him.

All of them put those Thoughts far from their minds as they repeated the chorus twice more. Letting the Music fade away, they eventually muted their strings with their hands, Rikki reaching up to still his cymbals. Even as she passed out tumblers of Water, the young Witch offered her praiseta all of them. Her trio of guests seemed to revel in it while Richie once again took a humble approach, but even her friend didn’t seem to realize what was on her mind.

Locking eyes with the Dark, Mysterious bassist, she couldn’t help the momentary hitch in her breath. Seeing his nostrils flare slightly, she was quick to realize that he’d heard her soft gasp. Ever quick to stomp down her attraction to any man, though, she headed back to the Wood stove.

But thinking that Bobby hadn’t already been aware of her attraction to him was a mistake on her part. Now that he’d seen it for himself, heard proof of it in that gasp, the Ice was thin, so to speak. He’d never force her to be with him in any way, but he was gonna at least somewhat unleash his inner bad boy now.


	7. Six

That Eve, after everyone’d gotten dinner and the others were taking turns with grabbing a bath, Bobby needed no encouragement from the younger brunette. As soon as he saw the young Witch head toward the Tree line, the only thing he waited for was his friendsta be thoroughly distracted. Once sure they weren’t watching, he took off after her, a bit surprised to find a well-worn trail through the underbrush.

His somewhat feral grin only grew as he realized that’d just lead him straight to Marissa. That was one less thing for him to worry about, considering he still wasn’t nearly as familiar with these Woods. As long as he didn’t get hopelessly lost without her, he’d be happy enough.

Following her made him become aware of a roar that couldn’t be heard from the cabin, and he soon got another pleasant surprise. Though no doubt chilly and only growing colder as the Seasons Changed, there was a Waterfall that could easily serve as a shower. It’d been so long since he’d gotten an actual shower that the bassist’d long since forgotten what one felt like. Course, he supposed he should be grateful to even _have_ soap and to get a bath since being alive topped his list.

Somehow, Bobby’s grin grew wider still when his target gasped upon hearing him purposely step on a branch. Watching her whirl around to scope out her surroundings for any predators was amusing. After all, he was really the only predator in the area, and there was only one thing he was truly on the prowl for.

“Who’s there?” the young Witch demanded when she saw no one and nothing.

He bit back laughter as he rustled the brush he was hiding in, enjoying the game too much to give it up just yet.

“Don’t make me shootcha,” Marissa warned, a telltale _click_ following her words.

“All right, all right,” the bassist laughed, emerging with his hands up. “I’d prefer to live and see another Sunrise.”

“Sweet Goddess!” she snapped, her free hand clapping against her chest. “Don’tcha _ever_ scare me like that again, or I might actually shootcha!”

“At least I could die a happy man with your image burned into my brain,” Bobby chuckled.

“The hell’dja follow me for?” the young Witch asked. “I thoughtcha were taking turns with the others back at the cabin.”

“Does a man _really_ need a reason to follow the woman who’s caught his eye and attention?” he countered with a bit of a growl.

Marissa couldn’t help another gasp as he jerked her against him, his arms wrapping around her shoulders.

“’Cuz don’t think I didn’t hear that lil gasp or see the way your pupils dilated this Morn,” the bassist chuckled, unable to resist rubbing against her gently.

“And what if I want no part of… _that?”_ she asked.

“I’ma call ya out on your bullshit, even though I’m not forcing ya into anything,” Bobby laughed, unable to help twitching against her.

The young Witch grumbled something, but finally wrapped her arms around his waist in Return.

“What was that?” he asked, cocking a brow down at her.

“I said that I really don’t wanna, ’cuz I’m already hurting bad enough,” Marissa huffed.

The bassist took a minute to realize what she meant, but he finally got it and laughed. “Not like a period’s much of a deterrent for me unless ya get some serious cramps.”

“And why’s that, pray tell?” She cocked a brow at him curiously.

“Well, for starters, blood’s gonna be involved either way, if you’re a virgin on top of it,” Bobby told her. “And at least we’ll know we won’t have a _Mini-Me_ running around anytime soon.”

The young Witch burst into laughter at his choice phrasing. “Okay, okay, point taken.”

“Well, it’s not like Birth Control exists yet,” he pointed out. “Hell, I’m not even sure something called a condom exists in 1839.”

“Oh, condoms exist, but they’re expensive,” Marissa told him. “Not to mention hard to find in small Towns like Tellico Plains.”

“I’m not surprised by _that_ as much as I am by ya _not_ asking what Birth Control is,” the bassist admitted.

Unable to bite back a grin, she told him she’d an idea already, which was why she hadn’t asked. If it worked anywhere near closeta the herbs a woman could take to prevent a child, one could say Birth Control _did_ exist in a way.

Bobby hummed thoughtfully, admitting that all he knew about Birth Control was that it’d something to do with hormones. Should a woman’s hormones get thrown just far enough outta whack, she wouldn’t reach her fertile point for the month. If she never became fertile, she wouldn’t conceive, no matter how many Times she went at it. For that matter, she could take a different lover every Night and not have to worry about making _any_ of them a father.

Marissa was as intrigued by that particular concept as she was by what she could feel pressing against her so boldly. Even though she was a bit shy about it, she finally admitted that she’d never been with a man _like that_. Sure, Richie was attractive, but she didn’t love him beyond a familial sense, and she wasn’t giving something so preciousta a man she didn’t love.

A sigh drifted up from his throat as he momentarily squeezed her tighter, then let her go. True to his word, the bassist wasn’t gonna force her into shit–he’d take what amounted to a cold shower and sleep in the barn before he did _that._ But even though he was a gentleman about it, that didn’t mean he’d to like the inadvertent teasing, considering how desperate he was since it’d been months since he’d last gotten laid.

“Bobby, wait,” she said, managing to snag the belt loop in the Center of his back as he walked away.

“Ya made your feelings quite clear, Marissa, and I’ll be damned if I disrespect that,” Bobby told her.

“I never said that I didn’t love _you,_ though,” the young Witch groused, tugging him back toward her.

“Don’t say it just so I’ll have sex with ya and letcha ditch your virginity,” he warned her with a hard look over his shoulder. “’Cuz I don’t say those three words lightly, and I’m not letting anyone else say them to me lightly.”

“Well, I’m not gonna say I’d handfast with ya on the morrow or anything ridiculous like that, but I’m not saying I wouldn’t at all,” Marissa chuckled.

The bassist merely cocked a brow again as he turned back around, chest on full display as he crossed his arms.

“There’s just something aboutcha,” she told him, her mouth suddenly drying out. “Maybe it’s that Air of Mystery, but you’re like a puzzle or riddle I can’t figure out.”

“Well, I _am_ a Scorpio, so I get that a lot,” Bobby said.

“But I think it’s your inner sweetheart, the good I can already sense deep in your heart, that draws me in like a moth to a Flame,” the young Witch admitted.

He seemed to search her eyes for Sincerity in the growing Twilight before heaving another sigh. “Can’t say I feel any differently and be telling the Truth.”

Marissa couldn’t help a soft giggle as she wrapped her arms around him again. That seemed to prompt him into doing the same, his grip on her a bit tighter, especially when she swayed against him. He seemed quite _affected_ by such a gentle movement, as evidenced by the groan he let out and how he twitched against her belly again.

Grumbling into her hair, Bobby soon had to force her to stand still so she’d stop teasing him, even by accident. Such a sensation was either gonna make him do something he’d sworn he wouldn’t, or embarrass himself like he was fifteen again.

With what could only be called an Impish grin, the young Witch allowed her handsta roam South. His back felt almost like a brick wall under her palms, especially when he stiffened, but that merely bespoke how strong he was physically. Besides, she was more interested in how his ass _felt,_ considering that it _looked_ absolutely Divine. Did it have even the slightest bit of give to it, or was it just as solid of muscle as his limbs and torso? There was only one way to find out, and she did just that in a moment.

A growl that sounded more Animal than human rumbled up from the depths of his torso as she gently squeezed. Letting her hands roam low enough to get her fingers between his legs only prompted another growl, but he still widened his stance. Bending his knees slightly to accommodate such an action put him more on her level, allowing him to start an exploration of his own.

Feeling him nuzzle right next to her ear as his hands slipped down to her own rump drew a soft gasp from her. No matter how it was worded, when she said she’d never been with a man in such a way, she meant it. That wasn’t to say she’d never known pleasure at her own hands, but not at those and other body parts of a man.

“I say we find somewhere that’s at least a _lil_ more comfortable,” he murmured between gentle kisses.

“And if there’s no such place without going back to the cabin?” Marissa asked, her voice sounding foreign to herself.

“Won’t be the first Time I’ve fucked in earshot of the guys,” the bassist answered with a chuckle. “I just don’t want them watching or trying to join in.”

“They’d seriously do that?” she asked.

“Hon, a man gets more than a lil stupid when he’s been deprived long enough,” Bobby laughed. “Only reason none of us’ve tried making any moves on ya before is ’cuz we were raised better than that, and we’ll all admit that Richie scares us.”

The young Witch couldn’t help a laugh, considering that her friend was often quiet and seemed to be plotting something.

“But while this _can_ be done standing up, I’d rather not take my chances withoutcha pinned against a Tree trunk,” he told her, moving to nibble at her throat.

“And why’s that, pray tell?” Marissa asked, unable to bite back a moan.

“’Cuz my knees’re bound to buckle, and I don’t doubt that yours will, too,” the bassist answered. “I’d rather not drop ya from making a stupid choice just so I can get laid.”

“Such a gentleman, even if I truly understand only about half your choice phrasing,” she chuckled.

Bobby couldn’t help a grin as he admitted that he was as much a bad boy as a gentleman. Which side of himself he showed at any given Time depended on the circumstances. It was something she well understood with lil explanation as he swept her up against his chest.

Despite the short squeal she let out, the young Witch gestured toward a grassy patch that was but a few strides from the riverbank. It was certainly a bit quieter since they were a lil further from the roaring Falls, which meant they could hear each other better. Besides, it’d be far more comfortable than trying to use a rock as a bridal bed. Not only would she _not_ have Stone biting into sensitive flesh, but it was friendlier to his knees.

As he took care with laying her down once he’d knelt, Marissa couldn’t help the smile she offered him. It was obvious that he was desperate and barely holding himself back, but the effort was appreciated all the same. But she knew that no matter what came later, tonight was the start of a new Life for at least her.


	8. Seven

Moving so he was stretched out beside her, Bobby forced himself to ignore how uncomfortably tight his fly was. He’d always been a well-endowed man–such a thing couldn’t be hidden, whether he wore leather or denim. Still, such a thing could be as embarrassing as it was uncomfortable at Times, and he refused to be distracted by such things.

Turning his attention to making sure she found the utmost pleasure, he merely let his hand roam down her covered torso. It was Marissa’s decision how far they went, but he certainly hoped she wouldn’t stop at using just her hands. Even if he got off fifteen Times and tied his balls in knots, he wanted everything she’d to offer. Nothing short of her telling him no to something could Change his mind and stop him.

However, it seemed that Marissa’d absolutely no Intention of rescinding her word on the matter. Even as he toyed with one of the buttons marching down the front of her shirt, she let her own hands roam just as freely as his own.

She seemed genuinely interested in learning all his planes and angles, her fingers gently toying with the nubs of his nipples. The bassist couldn’t help a groan that was equal parts pain and pleasure, which seemed to bring her up short. A soft chuckle bubbled up from his throat, the only reason he stopped her being so he could light the lantern she’d brought with her. Once it was lit and they’d at least dim Light with which to see by, he settled next to her on his side again.

_“OhmiGoddess,”_ the young Witch breathed, her eyes widening once they’d roamed down and locked on his crotch.

“Yeah, it’s not thatcha hurt me–not Intentionally, that is,” Bobby chuckled.

“I’ve never seen such a thing happen to a man,” she mused, gently pushing him onto his back.

“’Cuz it doesn’t unless a man’s aroused, sweetheart,” the bassist told her, unable to help gasping and bucking when she gently touched his straining fly.

Marissa gasped sharply as she jerked her hand back like he’d bitten her.

“Hey, it’s all right,” he said, gently grabbing her wrist and bringing her hand back to him. “It only hurt ’cuz my fly’s tight around it, not ’cuz _you_ hurt me.”

The young Witch seemed dubious, even as she allowed her hand to be pressed back to his swollen crotch.

“Jesus, this is gonna be the Death of me,” Bobby groaned, his head tilting back as he let her explore.

Careful to keep her touch gentle, she allowed her fingersta roam along the waistband of his jeans. She was enthralled by how the muscles of his abdomen jumped as much as his crotch seemed to twitch. But she was even more enthralled by the belt encircling his hips and holding up the jeans covering him.

Marissa managed to get the strip of leather unbuckled, which revealed how to open his fly. She was familiar with the concept of a button, so she already knew how to get it open. However, she _wasn’t_ familiar with the thing that seemed to draw a line down his hardened ridge.

Bobby chuckled as he reached down to open his zipper since he could tell she didn’t know how. Her eyes seemed to widen even more, and he was sure that was due as much to seeing how a zipper worked as getting her first good look at his crotch. After all, he’d chosen to go commando that Morn since his only pair of boxers hadn’t quite been dry. It wasn’t like he was hiding such an impressive sight without clothing or the like.

“So big and thick,” the young Witch breathed, gently running a finger down the vein of what’d be his underside, if he were face-down.

He couldn’t help a pleasured groan, nor arching into the gentle touch as his shaft lifted slightly of its own accord.

“Sweet Goddess, it moves!” Marissa gasped.

“Well, it’s basically nothing but blood-filled muscle,” the bassist laughed. “Kinda like a woman’s channel is, even when she’s _not_ visibly bleeding.”

She seemed intrigued by that notion as she caressed him again.

“When those muscles twitch for whatever reason, it makes a man’s shaft move,” Bobby concluded, again arching into the gentle touch.

“How’s it supposed to fit inside a woman, though?” the young Witch asked, glancing up at his face. “It looks like it’d rip a woman to shreds.”

“Well, a woman can stretch to allow an infant to come out, can’t she?” he countered with a laugh.

Marissa’s lips pursed as she considered that notion.

“I’m not gonna deny that it _can_ hurt sometimes,” the bassist admitted. “Especially if a woman’s still a virgin.”

This caused her to bite her lip, which he found to be a turn-on.

“It might very well hurt, but that doesn’t mean I’ma be a brute about it–not this Time,” Bobby swore. “I might like it hard and rough sometimes, but I like tender and gentle, too.”

She couldn’t help a shy smile at the Thought of him treating her like a piece of fine china so he wouldn’t hurt her overmuch. Maybe he was a bad boy at heart, one who loved to go wild and have a good Time, but he was also clearly a gentle Soul. To be quite honest, she wasn’t sure she could say the same about either of his blonde friends.

Marissa didn’t bother trying to fight him when he rolled onto his side, now gently pushing her onto her own back. The bassist kept his gaze locked with hers, looking for any signs of her Changing her mind as he started to unbutton her shirt. Even given every opportunity to do so, she didn’t bother trying to stop him. He could still feel her Anxiety, but that was completely normal, and he was grateful she didn’t stop him.

The young Witch gasped as he ducked his head and started kissing a trail down to her chest. Bobby exercised the utmost gentleness as he allowed his hands and mouth to roam freely. A grin crossed his face as feeling his lips and tongue on her nipple made her arch.

Gasp after moan drifted up from her lips, even as his hand drifted down to her hip. The bassist deftly unbuttoned the breeches she insisted on wearing, baring her as much as he currently was. A gentle kiss swallowed the cry she let out when his hand disappeared into said breeches and quickly found the sensitive nub he sought. His tongue gently dipped into her mouth, exploring as much as leading hers. Still, he wanted more, and he was hell-bound and determined to get what he wanted.

“Oh!” she gasped, her eyes flying open as he gently prodded her most intimate opening with a single finger.

“Relax, sweetheart–better this way,” Bobby murmured.

“H-How s-so?” the young Witch asked.

“’Cuz it’ll help stretch ya out so actually taking your virginity won’t hurt quite as much,” he answered.

Marissa was all too eager to allow him to continue, if it meant _that_ particular End.

“And even if it _didn’t–well,_ if ya relax enough, it’ll at least give ya pleasure beforehand,” the bassist chuckled.

She was all too eager to let him use every finger on both hands, if it meant not having to pleasure herself for once. Knowing pleasure at the hands of another was something she’d wanted for Years, but she’d refused to use Richie like that. No one deserved to be led on so, and she wasn’t gonna do that to her friend.

Bobby didn’t take long to have her reduced to a whimpering, needy mess next to him. Her face was twisted in pleasure, as shown by the Light of the lantern, her thighs trembling. Even her channel, tight though it now was around his fingers, shook with pre-come tremors.

Marissa soon erupted with a sharp cry, her eyes rolled back in her head as she bucked up against his hand. The bassist gentled his touch as he helped her ride it out, his fingers remaining even after she’d gone limp. Her breathing remained a bit harsh as she panted, her eyes finally rolling back down to lock on him as she smiled.

He didn’t try to stop her as she pulled him down for another kiss, her hands moving to his shoulders. The young Witch shoved his shirt down his arms as much as she could in this position. It was only so he could finish the job and spread it out on the grass that Bobby broke their kiss, which she seemed to understand. After that, her own shirt was spread out alongside his, which served well enough as the blanket neither of them’d brought from the cabin. Even his jeans and her breeches joined them, adding to the makeshift bedding.

With as much of a bridal bed made as he could possibly manage, the bassist moved so she once again lay on her back. However, the difference between now and before was that they were both fully nude and he knelt between Marissa’s thighs. This allowed her to get a good look at not only his shaft as it trumpeted its desire, but the sac that hung underneath. He forced himself not to smack her hand away, but he couldn’t help a pleasured groan as he warned her to be gentle.

“Ya won’t lose your virginity for a while yet, if you’re not,” Bobby said, a bit of a growl Darkening his voice.

“Why’s that?” the young Witch asked, gently fondling him.

“’Cuz that part of a man’s body’s so sensitive, the slightest wrong move’ll cause blinding pain,” he answered.

_“Ohhhh,”_ Marissa breathed, her eyes widening as she nodded.

“I might try to explain it better some other Time, but it’s not easy to think straight right now,” the bassist told her.

“’Cuz you’re so desperate, right?” she asked with a mischievous giggle.

“I could take ya like a brute and be happy, if Richie _wouldn’t_ kill me for it,” Bobby admitted. “’Cuz right now, my shaft actually hurts from being so aroused.”

The young Witch winced sympathetically. “Well, maybe we need to do something about that.”

“Only if you’re absolutely sure,” he told her sternly. “Not like there’s any going back once it’s done.”

“If I Intended to toy with a man, I’d have done this with Richie Years ago, not even the slightest Intention to handfast with him afterward,” Marissa swore.

That was all it took to have him moving closer so she could actually feel him against her most intimate region. Her mouth opening in a surprised _O_ as she felt the heat radiating from that pulsing aroused flesh made him laugh softly. Something told him that it’d take a while for her to truly get used to such a sensation, and that he’d be amused for quite a while to come.

Assured that she really wanted this, the bassist readjusted himself so that his tip was pressed securely against her. She still seemed nervous, which was the only reason he paused in moving forward. Even though it’d irritate him to no End, there was still Time for him to stop.

Not about to Change her mind, the young Witch arched up against him in a move that wedged said tip into her. Bobby couldn’t help a groan, his own hips arching toward her as he slowly pushed in. Only a lil at a Time, which served the purpose of letting her slowly adjust to being stretched so much. As he moved till he felt her virginal veil against his tip, he watched her face, carefully judging her reactions. Still, she was sure about this and nodded to let him know she was ready as she took a deep breath.

Even still, Marissa couldn’t help a pained squeak as he pushed past that virginal veil. It wasn’t as bad as she’d been anticipating, no thanksta some horror stories from before she’d been run outta Town. But even though it was more of a dull ache than a sharp, blinding agony, having one’s virginity taken was still painful.

“Just breathe and relax,” the bassist murmured, gently kissing next to her ear.

“Trying,” she ground out as she gripped his shoulders.

“Think of it like any other muscle cramp,” Bobby told her, unable to help a chuckle.

“Say that when _you’ve_ a man’s rod shoved into such an intimate region!” the young Witch managed to laugh.

He merely groaned as the twitching of her channel teased him once again.

“You’re not hurt, are ya?” Marissa asked, moving her handsta cup his cheeks.

“Tormented all to hell since holding still’s driving me insane,” the bassist answered.

“Then what’re ya waiting for?” she chuckled. “A feisty woman to smack your ass like a newborn still yet to breathe?”

Letting out a growl, Bobby pushed himself up just enough to have good leverage. His weight was braced on his knees and forearms as he locked gazes with her. Only then did he allow himself to start a rhythm that was as easy as it was complicated, and old as Time, itself.

The young Witch couldn’t help a whimper as he pulled away from her, a small part of her honestly thinking it was over already. After all, mating Animals didn’t stay joined for long before it was over in most cases. Maybe he’d already reached the height of his pleasure without her realizing he’d done so. She obviously wouldn’t know one way from the other, considering her lack of experience.

Feeling him surge back to fill her so completely all over again made Marissa realize just how inexperienced she was. There was clearly more to the physical aspect of mating than just being entered by a man. Clearly, he _hadn’t_ reached the height of his pleasure, which explained his claim of holding still driving him crazy.

Bobby growled as he ducked his head to give her another kiss, his hips moving in a slow, gentle rhythm. Even as his upper torso lowered slightly so he could reach her throat, he continued his rhythm. The gasp she let at as he gently bit down on what he’d figured out was a hot spot just made him grin. Hearing her soft cry as readjusting himself slightly Changed his angle merely spurred him into slightly faster movement. And that faster movement simply made her tighten around him deliciously.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” the bassist growled, reaching down to thumb her sensitive lil nub. “That’s it, sweetheart–just let go and sing for me.”

Marissa couldn’t help the strangled Sound she made any more than she could help the cry that followed.

“Ah, fuck me,” he groaned.

The young Witch’s eyes flew open as he plunged in a final Time before holding still.

“Jesus, I Wish I coulda held out longer than that,” Bobby panted, his arms shaking as he held himself up.

_“Mmm,_ I’m not holding it againstcha,” she told him, unable to help a giggle as she made him look at her.

“It’s just a bit embarrassing since I’m used to lasting longer than that before I cum,” the bassist chuckled. “Usually long enough to make a woman come at least twice, maybe thrice.”

“Come?” Marissa asked, looking confused.

“Whatcha did when ya cried out,” he answered with a laugh. “We say a person comes when they find that pleasure in 1989.”

_“Ohhhh.”_ The young Witch nodded as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“That’s not to say that this’ll be the _only_ round, as long as you’re willing,” Bobby said. “Another round just won’t happen till the pistol’s reloaded, so to speak.”

“I won’t deny being willing any more than I’ll deny being too tired at the moment,” she told him.

The bassist couldn’t help a chuckle as he agreed that it’d been a long Day, even if it hadn’t been as physically exhausting as most. Whether he wanted another round or not, it was better they both get some rest. In fact, even bathing in the River could wait till Dawn’s first Light, as far as he was concerned.

Marissa hummed into the kiss he gave her, unable to help a shiver as she felt his softening member slip outta her. Even if this hadn’t gone anywhere near how she’d expected at first, it’d still been an amazing experience for her.

Sighing as he moved to settle next to her so he could pull her against his side, Bobby didn’t bother to fight the smile on his face. It’d still take a few more roundsta completely sate his need, but at least this was a start. Besides, this might just be the start of something even greater, something better and deeper than he’d found in 1989. Only Time’d tell what it’d be, but he was willing to wait patiently as well as work hard.


	9. Eight

At least two more rounds followed that very first one over the course of the Night, much to both parties’ mutual pleasure. In fact, their final round before Bobby was forced to beg for a cease-and-desist was started by the young Witch. Due to the crowing of her Rooster–which wasn’t as loud out here in the Woods–she’d woken at the ass-crack of Dawn again. Years of stomping down the slightest attraction to even Richie’d left her quite a needy woman.

The only real reason he’d to put the kibosh on any further shenanigans was ’cuz he was gonna wind up hurting himself, if he didn’t. Marissa’d been confused by what he meant, which just made him chuckle as he kissed the tip of her nose.

Having given it a few moments’ Thought, the bassist finally said that he called the condition _knotted balls_. A man’d special tubing that allowed his seed an exit route, but too much pleasure too close together could tie that tubing into knots. Since he didn’t have the slightest clue how to untie such knots, he’d rather avoid getting them. Besides, he was rubbed a bit raw by her pubic hair since he wasn’t used to that anymore.

Looking up at him, she couldn’t help the way her brow knitted in confusion, which just made him laugh again. Bobby explained that while some women stopped at merely trimming, others’d completely remove theirs in 1989. If he were completely honest, he was one of those people who tended to do away with pubic hair, himself.

“It’s fuckin’ itchy and traps more body odor when I’m on tour,” he said with a shrug.

“On tour?” Marissa asked.

“Bret, Rikki, and I make our living as musicians,” the bassist explained. “Going on tour means we go to a lotta different places over a Year or two so we can play our songs for a whole lotta people.”

“I guess it’s kinda like a Traveling bard a couple hundred Years ago,” she mused.

“Well, kinda, but not exactly,” Bobby admitted. “In 1989, we don’t Travel on horseback, or by wagons and sleighs unless we wanna.”

“Wait, y’all don’t?” the young Witch asked.

“We’ve trains, as well as things called cars and airplanes,” he answered with a chuckle.

Marissa looked utterly confused.

“Cars make it so driving twenty miles takes a few minutes instead of all Day,” the bassist chuckled. “Airplanes take humans up into the Sky kinda like Birds when they’re flying.”

“I feel the need for a headache tonic,” she veritably moaned.

“I’m not surprised,” Bobby said. “The differences between now and then’re enough to give even me a headache, and I grew up with all that shit.”

“Really?” she queried, turning a curious look up at him.

“All of us band mates were born in the early-1960s,” the bassist answered, nodding. “Rikki in 1961, CC in 1962, and Bret and I in 1963.”

“So, you’re the same age as Bret?” Marissa seemed intrigued.

“Well, not quite–he was born in March of that Year, me in November,” he told her. “So, Bret’s already turned twenty-six, but I won’t for another month or so.”

“I’ll be twenty-one on October eighteenth,” the young Witch giggled. “So, not much younger than the rest of y’all.”

Bobby chuckled as he admitted that he’d been curious about her age all this Time. He hadn’t asked, ’cuz he’d been raised under the belief that it was rude to all about a woman’s weight or age, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still curious.

Grinning, she told him he could pretty much throw that mentality out the window with her. She didn’t mind him asking, ’cuz she believed the only stupid question to be an unasked one. If she really didn’t wanna talk about something, she’d simply tell him so, rather than get upset that he’d asked. How gentle or blunt she was about such a response’d depend on her mood, which was just typical human behavior.

Marissa admitted that she’d no idea how much she weighed, but figured it was in a relatively normal range for a woman of her height. And she didn’t weigh herself down with unnecessary layers, considering she lived alone in the middle of the Woods. It wasn’t like she’d anyone to force her into dressing a certain way–not that she’d ever listen, anywhore.

A chuckle drifted up from the depths of his throat as the bassist said he’d never force a woman to dress any certain way. Sure, he’d his preferences just like anyone else–aside from nude, his favorite’d have to be a short skirt, strapless top, and high heels. But if a woman’d rather run around in jeans, a T-shirt, and sneakers or boots, he wouldn’t argue.

“I mean, other than the promotional pictures for the band, I prefer simple for myself,” Bobby admitted. “That’s why I was wearing jeans, a button-down with a tank top underneath, and my boots when I appeared here.”

“It’d be pretty stupid for ya to argue a woman wanting to dress more or less the same way,” the young Witch chuckled.

“Hence why I find your choices refreshing, considering the Time period,” he laughed.

“I guess if there’s anything I’m curious about, it’s your overall taste in women,” Marissa mused.

“Well, other than my _fiancé_ in 1989, pretty much Dark and kinda on the exotic side like me,” the bassist answered.

“So, Richie _wasn’t_ telling me a falsehood with that,” she said.

“No, he wasn’t–not that I Intended to hide it,” Bobby told her. “But like I pointed out when it came up, who’s to say I’ll ever get to go back to 1989?”

“No sense in being alone, if that’s the case,” the young Witch agreed.

“And if I _do_ get to go back–well, I’d prolly break shit off with Mishy, whether _you_ got to come with me or not,” he said.

“Why break off a betrothal, if you’re happy with her, though?” Marissa asked.

Heaving a sigh as he momentarily squeezed her tighter, the bassist admitted that meeting her’d made him realize that he _wasn’t_ happy with Mishy. Looking back on it, he’d thought he was happy with her, but there were things he’d realized in the last couple months. And those things were what they called _deal-breakers_ in the Future for him.

Not only was his _fiancé_ more than a bit of a bitch–especially toward the fans that adored him–but she was jealous and greedy. Hell, she’d be trying to rip his head off right now, if she knew what a passionate Night they’d shared under the Stars.

Bobby said that in the last couple months, he’d pretty much figured out the young Witch was the complete opposite. She may not like sharing him, but she’d prolly rather see him sleep with a groupie as opposed to wind up as desperate as last Night. That wasn’t to say he wouldn’t respect her Wishes, if she _didn’t_ want him to, but she seemed more open to at least considering it. In addition to that, she didn’t seem nearly as greedy and materialistic as his _fiancé,_ for that matter.

Marissa grinned as she allowed him to finally help her up, quick to inform him that he was right. All Witches were open-minded to varying degrees, ’cuz that was another fundamental part of Paganism. While she enjoyed nice and pretty things, they weren’t a requirement for her when compared to basic necessities.

“I mean, I’d rather not be given jewels all the Time unless they’re loose Stones I can use in my Craft,” she said as they made their way to the riverbank.

“Kinda like I don’t really care for jewelry,” Bobby agreed. “Really just my earrings and guitar necklace, maybe a ring or two occasionally.”

The young Witch cocked a brow curiously.

“A lotta folks get their ears pierced in my Time,” he chuckled, leaning down once he’d brushed his hair back. “It makes a small hole in the skin that jewelry and be put in.”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Marissa asked, reaching up to gently play with his earlobe.

“When ya first get the piercing done and if it gets infected, yeah,” the bassist answered. “Once it’s Healed like these, it doesn’t hurt unless it gets infected.”

She seemed enthralled till he was forced to make her let go so he could straighten.

“I’d letcha keep messing with it, but that’s making my neck and back hurt,” Bobby chuckled.

Laughing as they slowly waded into the chilly River, the young Witch swore that was just ’cuz he was a giant. Biting back a scream at feeling the Water’s chill on his crotch, he shot right back that he wasn’t a giant. Even if he _was,_ he hadn’t asked to be left in a pile of manure to fertilize him as a kid, and he was a gentle giant, at that.

Marissa could definitely attest to how gentle he could be when he was in the right mood. Just like she could be more of a caring, kind-hearted spirit when she felt like it as opposed to a scary bitch. That was proven when she took notice of how he was cupping himself in one big hand.

Chuckling, the bassist told her that he was fine aside from the Water being a lil too chilly for his liking. When it was chilly enough to make his dick play _Turtle,_ that was pushing it. Being cold enough to make his balls draw up into his belly was uncomfortable, even a lil painful. It was only painful due to such an active Night, but he still didn’t like it at all.

The pair made quick work of getting soaped up, Bobby soon able to move easier. Once he’d adjusted to the Water temperature enough, his balls’d dropped back down, allowing him to get cleaned up. Besides, he was more concerned with the slight hitch in _her_ step, no doubt from the lingering pain of giving up her virginity. She assured him that she was fine, making quick work of rinsing off so she could head ashore to dry herself off. He was quick to follow, and equally quick to give up his shirt when he saw how much blood had soaked into hers.

Once they were both dressed, the bassist swept her up against his chest so she was cradled bridal-style. Marissa’d protested at first, but he was quick to shut her up with a gentle, if somewhat heated kiss. It was his fault she was in pain this Morn, and he’d be damned, if he made her walk when he could carry her. Seeing no way to argue with him, she’d simply snuggled against his chest, one arm wrapped around his neck as her free hand held onto the lantern to take back with them.


	10. Nine

The teasing’d started almost the second Bobby’d walked up to the front porch, where he’d finally set the young Witch down. It was the flushed, well-loved looks on their faces that gave them away more than anything besides the fact that they’d been gone all Night. Still, that didn’t mean that either of them appreciated even a cheer, even though they knew it was all in good fun and jest.

Luckily, Richie’d been able to start breakfast, even though many of the Time considered that a woman’s work. Both were more than a lil grateful since they were starving after such an _active_ Night. They were just glad that he never said a word about their expressions as he passed out plates.

Once Bret and Rikki’d headed out to get started on the Day’s chores, the younger brunette dragged out the Tin bathtub. Marissa’d sighed like she was looking forward to that, which garnered her a curiously-cocked brow from her lover. She explained that he was no doubt setting up a Healing bath to help with any aches from the Night previous.

“Sounds like an Epsom Salt bath to me,” the bassist chuckled.

“A what?” she asked, looking confused.

“Something people in my Time do to help with muscle aches, bruises, and sore feet, to keep the list short,” Bobby explained with a grin.

“Well, I’ll be Blessed,” the young Witch laughed.

“Hey, just ’cuz medical science’s improved so much doesn’t mean the old ways’ve been _completely_ abandoned!” he told them. “It’s just that not nearly as many people use them anymore.”

“Really?” Even Richie seemed curious as he lugged in enough Water to fill the kettle a few Times so he could heat it on the Wood stove.

“Well, I’m used to taking something called aspirin for a headache, but that bark Marissa makes me chew on works pretty good, too,” the bassist explained with a shrug.

“Willow bark,” Marissa chuckled. “It’s been known to relieve pain for Centuries, if not Millennia.”

“I betcha if ya were to quiz Bret and Rikki on that, they wouldn’t be able to give ya that answer,” he said. “Let alone tell ya what’s in Willow bark that relieves pain like aspirin does.”

“I doubt it, to be quite honest,” the younger brunette agreed.

Having killed off his coffee, Bobby said he’d take care of the dishes on the front porch this Morn. It wouldn’t be fun to lug them back in later, but he was willing to give the young Witch her privacy. But she was quick to tell him that she wasn’t gonna send him or her friend outside. Said friend had seen her nekkid plenty of Times, and Goddess-only-knew he’d seen even more the Night previous.

The bassist simply shared a look with her, his expression a questioning one. He knew there was no Changing it once she’d made up her mind, but he was still a gentleman. Still just a bit too sore to try starting yet another round, it wasn’t like he was gonna do anything to her.

Assuring him that she didn’t care, the young Witch simply stated unbuttoning her shirt. Richie politely averted his eyes as she slipped it off her shoulders, but not before catching sight of the marks littering her shoulders, throat, and upper chest. He turned a surprised look on the bassist, who merely grinned and shrugged as he got started on the dishes. Marking a woman like that was something he usually did without conscious Thought, not ’cuz he meant to hurt her. Besides, such marks were really only a hair tender, if they hurt in the slightest.

Marissa assured her friend that none of the marks really hurt as she unbuttoned her breeches. In fact, she prolly wouldn’t have realized they were there without looking in a mirror, if he hadn’t said anything. She said they were all in spots that’d been bitten and/or suckled once he caressed them, but they hadn’t hurt before those gentle caresses.

Bobby said that was typically how hickies, as they were called in 1989 were. They didn’t tend to hurt unless one’d a particularly rough lover, which didn’t happen as often as one’d think. Considering he’d held back, despite his desperation, he wasn’t surprised the hickies he’d given her didn’t hurt unless touched. He’d meant to reboot her brain with pleasure, not cause her to remember the experience for all the wrong reasons by making it hurt in a bad way, after all.

“He really _was_ that gentle, Richie,” she said with a reassuring smile. “I’d say he acted like I was an infant, or a piece of fine china.”

“Well, I don’t think I was quite _that_ gentle–I was pretty desperate, after all,” the bassist denied, his face turning pink.

“I’d ask just how desperate, but I don’t think I wanna know the answer,” Richie chuckled.

“Let’s just say I don’t remember the last Time I’d a woman before last Night and my Stamina was shot, and leave it at that,” he told him, that pink tinge deepening a bit.

“Must get insane when you’re on tour,” the young Witch mused, sighing as she settled into her bath.

“Well, I toldja that we go to a lotta places in a short amount of Time,” Bobby reminded her, rolling up his sleeves. “I dunno about 1839, but in 1989, we use something called Time zones.”

Both listened Intently, even as the younger brunette dragged out the wash tub to get started on the laundry.

“The crazy schedule combined with constantly-Changing Time zones and things like illnesses getting spread in cramped quarters can make a guy more than a _lil_ forgetful,” he explained.

“Whaddaya mean by cramped quarters?” Richie asked curiously.

“Think something about the size of this cabin on wheels that moves on its own, not ’cuz Horses pull it,” the bassist chuckled. “That’s the easiest way to describe a tour bus without being able to show ya one.”

Even the young Witch was enthralled as he said that he, Bret, and Rikki were able to deal with the cabin ’cuz they were used to worse. After all, there was usually upwards of a dozen people crammed into roughly the same amount of square footage, if not less. Only four, maybe five of them at once was a cake walk in comparison to that.

Bobby then reminded her of what he’d said about cars and airplanes making Travel a lot faster. Flying could take them out to was currently was or would be California in a few short hours. Driving wasn’t as fast, but they could still cover hundreds of miles in a single Day.

Still, having so much to remember while on tour tended to make the lil things slip. They were known for damn near forgetting their own names sometimes, there was always so much to keep up with. Forgetting when they’d last gotten any action unless it was the Night previous wasn’t exactly a surprise. Much to his amusement, even their roadies suffered from that problem more than they’d admit to.

“So, it’s not necessarily that I’ve a bad memory, or that I wanna forget those kinda things,” the bassist chuckled.

“It’s kinda like Rissa and I needing a memory refresher on certain spells, if we don’t use ’em very often,” Richie mused.

“Well, I was thinking more along the lines of all the uses of Stones and herbs alike,” she laughed.

“Actually, that _does_ sound like a better comparison,” the younger brunette agreed.

“The only point’s that I mighta been a lil rough with her, but I toned myself down pretty well, all things considered,” Bobby told him.

“And it was actually Bobby who called for the cease-and-desist, not me,” the young Witch giggled.

“Hey, I’ve already toldja why I’m kinda sore this Morn!” he laughed as he headed out to dump the dishwater, now that he was done with the dishes.

“Apparently, I rubbed him a lil raw without meaning to,” Marissa said with a grin as her friend cocked a brow at her.

The bassist laughed again as he brought the smaller wash tub back into the cabin. He was quick to remind her that he didn’t wanna tie his tubing into knots without knowing how to untie them again. Needing this break already was uncomfortable enough, and he’d no desire to have a repeat of _knotted balls_ that’d prolly lead to him losing said organs.

Even Richie couldn’t help a wince and cupping himself at the mere Thought of such a thing happening. He could understand his fellow brunette’s plea for a cease-and-desist, even though men were notorious for wanting sex more often. Losing such organs–even if he’d no Intention of ever fathering a child–wasn’t something he was willing to risk. Just ’cuz he didn’t want his own family yet didn’t necessarily mean he never would.

Marissa agreed with that wholeheartedly, which was why she said she Intended to dig through her cache of dried herbs. Having gotten a taste of Intimacy, she couldn’t imagine always waiting till her monthly to get more just to prevent a child.

Bobby was quick to agree that if she’d any of those child-preventing h-rbs, it was prolly a good idea to use them. In fact, he said that if they’d work more or less the same way for a man, he’d join her in that endeavor. At least they wouldn’t have to worry at all, if they lowered his sperm count in addition to altering her cycle even slightly. Not only that, but he was sure something herbal’d be far healthier than anything from the Future. The only thing they could do was give it a try and see what happened.


	11. Ten

_October, 1839_

The next couple weeks passed in relative Peace, if one didn’t count the occasional ribbing from the pair of blondes. Just like the Day after spending the Night in the Woods, they teased Bobby playfully, not ’cuz they were truly being mean. His being invited to join the young Witch in her loft, rather than remaining downstairs in his cot only added to the teasing. Still, it was all in good fun and jest, which was why the lovers didn’t really let it get to them.

But one Morn a couple Days before Marissa’s birthday, at least two of them were forced to ride into the small Town of Tellico. While she was able to make the majority of what they needed, there were a few things she needed to go to Town for. A few things needed to be bought from the general store, and it was easier to sell and buy livestock in Town.

Even though she obviously didn’t wanna, she busted out and donned one of the dresses she rarely wore. It was bad enough that the majority of the townsfolk wanted to hang her, or burn her at the stake. Since there was only so much Richie could do to protect her, she saw no need to make it worse by riding into Town in mens’ clothing. Besides, it was only a temporary Change to her norm, so she could stomach it for a Day.

Still, the trouble started almost as soon as she, her friend, and her lover started down what amounted to Main Street. Folks calling her names, throwing things, and even spitting at her came from all sides. The younger brunette sighed and nudged his Horse closer to her for added Security.

“Look, she’s another man with her!” someone called out.

“Heathen whore!” another cried.

_“Is_ it even a man?” a third person asked, making no effort to keep his voice down. “Or is it another woman that runs around in breeches?”

“Don’t make me get down from here and drop trow,” Bobby growled. “’Cuz I’m not afraid of proving my gender.”

“Robert, don’t,” Richie warned him. “You’ll just get yourself hauled off by the Sheriff since there’s women and children present.”

“Won’t be the first Time I’ve been arrested for something stupid,” he shot back.

“Robert,” the younger brunette growled.

“All right, all right,” Bobby grumbled. “But don’t think I won’t defend her, if they start getting physical.”

“I’d expect no less,” he told him, his tone expressing the approval that his expression didn’t.

The trio soon reined in outside the general store so they could dismount and get their business taken care of. Marissa gratefully accepted her lover’s assistance in dismounting while her friend was tying their Horsesta hitching rails. She offered him a thankful smile, but didn’t actually say anything as she took his offered elbow.

Bobby was hard-pressed to ignore the whispers and not-so-hushed conversations as he escorted her into the building. He didn’t care if they talked shit about him, which was mostly about his long braid and just the fact that he was with her. Even their comments about his foreign accent and looking like he’d a Native American parent didn’t bother him as much as what was said about the young Witch.

Richie managed to buffer the worst of it, clearly sensing that his temper was already simmering. If they didn’t watch it, the bassist was gonna wind up brawling with someone. There was no guarantee that defending a woman’d get him outta any charges, and he wanted to avoid a brawl.

As they headed back outside to secure her purchasesta their saddles and mount up, all that effort was thrown out the window. One of the men that’d been calling Marissa a whore snatched the braid hanging down her own back. Crying out in pain as he jerked her backward, she dropped the parcel she’d been carrying and reached up to attempt hitting him. The man jerked her head back so that all she could see was the Sky, which made it hard to do much of anything.

“Let her go, or you’re gonna regret it,” Bobby snarled, shoving the parcel he’d been carrying into the younger brunette’s arms.

“And who’s gonna make me–a no-good In’jun like you?” he laughed, clearly goading him.

The bassist didn’t bother letting his words answer for him, but rather let his first do the talking.

“Robert!” Richie snapped as he landed a solid blow that knocked him on his assta the man’s mouth.

“Let her go, or you’ll eat your teeth,” he growled, ignoring even the Sheriff running up.

“Young man, that’s enough!” he snapped as his deputy loosed Marissa’s hair from the man’s grip.

“Wasn’t gonna hit him again, if he let her go,” Bobby said, shrugging as he turned to pull her against him.

“You’re lucky I saw everything, or I’d slap ya in Irons, boy,” the Sheriff told him.

“Wouldn’t be the first Time I’ve been hauled off for fighting, drunk or sober,” he retorted, not looking the least bit afraid. “And my mother’d put me in my grave, if I stood back and let a woman be assaulted.”

“Even if that woman’s a Witch?” someone asked.

“I watched her save my friend’s Life when prolly no one else could,” the bassist answered. “Even if I’m wary of her Power, why be afraid of it? She’d rather help those around her than harm, and I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

He wasn’t surprised that yet another man accused him of being under her spell ’cuz he was intimate with her. Shrugging, he neither confirmed, nor denied that accusation as he helped her mount up side-saddle. As far as he was concerned, their shared sex Life or lack thereof wasn’t any of the townsfolks’ business. They weren’t involved, especially since they’d run her outta Town onto a plot of Land on the riverbank.

“She’s a Witch and a whore!” one of the women cried.

“Then ya clearly dunno what a whore really is,” Bobby retorted.

“So, ya _are_ intimate with her!” what he assumed was the woman’s husband said.

“So what, if I am?” he asked. “Not like you’re invited to join us, so whydda _you_ care?”

The bassist rolled his eyes as someone cried out that it wasn’t right for a woman to do such things while unwed.

“I think that’s a personal opinion,” Bobby said. “What’s more important to me’s that she’s willing, not whether we’re married or not.”

“He’s too scared to make her an honest woman!” the man he’d decked laughed.

“I’d marry her right here in the middle of the street, completely nude or in my Sunday best, as long as that’s what _she_ wanted,” he told him.

Marissa’s eyes widened in surprise, if only ’cuz they’d been intimate for only two weeks, so they hadn’t talked about such things.

“Now, I’ma make this clear,” the bassist growled after he’d mounted up. “Touch even the tips of her hair or a loose thread of her clothing again, and watch how Creative I get when I exact my Revenge.”

Everybody gathered around suddenly looked more afraid of him than the woman they’d run outta Town.

“And for the record, Sheriff, that’s neither a threat, nor a promise–that’s a guarantee,” Bobby said, looking said man dead in the eye.

Without waiting for anyone elseta utter another word, he wheeled his mount around toward her cabin. Nudging Lightning’s ribs with his heels four Times, he took off at a gallop before he was goaded into keeping his word. Proving just how serious he was would no doubt get messy, considering there was bound to be quite a bit of blood involved.

Following his lead, Richie made sure the young Witch took off ahead of him on Thunder. He brought up the rear as she caught up with the bassist so no one could attack her from behind. Still, he knew there was bound to be a long discussion once they got back to her cabin.

Even as they rode up outside said cabin an hour or so later, Marissa’s mind was still reeling. She’d known that the older brunette was attracted to her–how couldn’t he be, if he was willing to get intimate with her? But even though he’d admitted to being betrothed in his own Time, she hadn’t expected him to have marriage on his mind, especially in regardsta her, here in 1839.

Bret and Rikki almost immediately knew better than to even speak to him when their friend almost immediately stormed into the Tree line upon dismounting. They both knew him well, and they could tell that while he wasn’t likely to hit them, it was best to leave him alone for a while. He was clearly in a bad mood, and they didn’t feel like getting yelled at.

Richie sighed as he helped the young Witch dismount, the others already untying parcels from saddles. He couldn’t blame the bassist for still being upset and needing some Time to cool off. After all, he was still upset about what he’d borne witnessta in his own right. The difference was that he wasn’t quite ready to go on the Warpath like his fellow brunette clearly was. Course, he’d daresay he’d more than fallen in Love with the accosted party, and that was why he was so upset.

“So, what crawled up Bobby’s ass?” the shorter blonde asked once they’d gotten the parcels into the cabin.

“It started with the same ol’ shit,” he sighed, having helped Marissa up into her loft. “Staring, name-calling, accusing Marissa of being the bad variety of Witch.”

“Sounds like a typical foray into an 1839 small Town for anyone outside the definition of _normal,”_ Rikki dead-panned.

“Pretty much, unfortunately,” the youngest man agreed with a nod. “It wouldn’t have been that bad without the spitting and one of the menfolk grabbing Marissa by the hair.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” the taller blonde groaned.

“When Bobby’s even mildly in Love, he gets violent and territorial, if anyone so much as looks at his woman with ill Intent,” Bret said.

“So, I _wasn’t_ seeing things when I thought I saw that Emotion in his eyes,” Richie mused.

“Only one he’s looked at like that in the last couple Years was his _fiancé,_ Mishy,” he told him. “And the last Time anyone so much as looked at _her_ like they were even thinking about touching her, he damn near killed the bastard.”

The youngest man couldn’t help a wince, but it was more than a lil bit of a relief to hear that. It reassured him that–whether he actually married her or not–Bobby was gonna protect Marissa at all costs. Short of Death or getting arrested, he couldn’t see him doing anything less, if he’d once gone to such lengths for the _fiancé_ he’d been ripped away from. And considering the townsfolk were getting worse in their behavior, he considered that a very good thing.

Marissa soon came back down from the loft, now dressed in her customary shirt and breeches. When she failed to see her lover, she turned to head out the door so she could go find him. She was concerned, given how she’d seen him react while they were gone and how he’d ridden most of the way back at a full gallop.

“I wouldn’t mess with him yet, if I were you,” Rikki said, gently grabbing her shoulder.

“Y’all weren’t the onesta watch him damn near knock a man’s teeth out!” she protested, turning back to face him.

“We’ve seen it before,” the drummer told her.

“And trust us when we say that when he getsta that point, Bobby’s not a very nice person,” Bret said. “He’d never raise a hand to ya, but you’d wind up in your first couple’s fight, if ya mess with him right now.”

The young Witch looked like she still wanted to argue the point.

“Just leave him be for a bit, Rissa,” Richie told her, pulling her against him for a hug. “There’ll be Time to discuss what he said once he’s Calmed down and _not_ at risk of yelling at anyone.”

Even the shorter blonde looked confused, but he refused to elaborate on what he meant. Since they hadn’t been there to bear witness, he didn’t feel they needed to know till their friend Returned. If Bobby wanted them to know, he’d allow the discussion to take place in front of them.

As the afternoon slowly faded into Eve, Marissa found herself growing more and more worried. His agitation and Anger aside, she knew her lover didn’t have so much as a Candle. If he failed to Return before Dark, she and the others’d have to go search for him. Leaving him out there alone without a weapon and a Light source was a bad idea. Even her friend and fellow Witch knew that could easily spell Death for the bassist.

Luckily, Bobby finally emerged from the Tree line in the same area as where he’d appeared with the young Witch after being Graced with her virginity. He still looked upset, but thankfully for them, far Calmer than he’d looked before. Maybe they could actually crack his Secretive Nature and get him to talk about what was on his mind.


	12. Eleven

After supper was served and consumed, Bobby headed out to the front porch. Settling on the swing he and Rikki’d teamed up to build and hang, he knew the blondes were curious. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that they were wanting to know what’d happened earlier, and why it’d sent him into the Tree line as soon as he’d dismounted.

Marissa also seemed concerned and wary of him, but like she Intended to follow him shortly. Considering that she’d watched him deck that bastard in the mouth, he wasn’t surprised that she was wary. He’d never shown a violent streak in front of her, not even when Bret was annoying him. Since she’d never seen his violent, brawler side, no doubt it’d scared her and maybe even made her think he’d eventually rescind his word about never raising his hand to a woman.

It wasn’t long before the bassist was proven right in his suspicion, the rest of the group joining him on the front porch. Richie and the blondes settled at the edge of the structure where they could lean against the support columns that held up the roof.

Only after studying him for a few moments did the young Witch join him on the swing. Bobby gladly raised his arm, allowing her to snuggle against his side as he wrapped it around her shoulders. The other remained stretched across the back of the swing, one foot setting said piece of furniture into motion. His other foot dangled in midair from its corresponding ankle resting on the opposite knee.

“So, what on Earth happened in Town today, man?” Rikki finally ventured.

“We’ve seen ya pissed before, but not like that,” the shorter blonde added.

“Never damn near been dragged off by my dick for a shotgun wedding just for sleeping with and defending a woman, either,” he said.

“Wait, what?” The taller blonde’s eyes widened.

“Long story short, one of the assholes that torments Marissa when she goes into Town dared grabbing her by the hair,” Bobby explained. “I socked him one in the mouth when he refused to let go and dared insult my Native American Ancestry, instead.”

“Not smart for anyone who even remotely knows ya,” the drummer said with a wince.

“Like he was told, he’s lucky the Sheriff saw what transpired, or he’d have been hauled off in irons,” Richie spoke up.

“Wouldn’t be the first Time,” the front man laughed. “We’ve all been arrested for one minor thing or another.”

“And I told the Sheriff as much,” he said, still keeping up the swing’s steady rhythm. “Just like I warned him that I don’t make threats or promises, I make guarantees when I told them to watch how Creative I got with exacting Revenge, if anyone touches her again.”

“Remind me to stay outta your path, if that happens,” Rikki chuckled.

“Yeah, ya know what a sadistic bastard I am when someone pisses me off like that,” the bassist said with a smirk.

Even Bret couldn’t help a laugh as he said that being in 1839 wouldn’t stop his inner sadist once it came out to play. If anything, it’d make him a meaner mother fucker than he normally was from having to get even more Creative. Just like his fellow blonde, he said he’d rather have a case of blue balls than get in his way like that.

Naturally, Marissa looked confused by the term _blue balls,_ although her friend seemed like he’d a basic idea. Chuckling, the front man explained that that’d happen to a man, if he spent too long a Time aroused. Most swore it was most common from suddenly being denied just as he was about to cum. It was painful, more so for some than others, and none of them enjoyed when it happened to them. That was why they avoided having it happen whenever they could, even if it meant an early-Morn romp.

“Definitely doesn’t sound fun,” the young Witch mused.

“Like I said, we try to avoid it wherever possible,” he chuckled.

“Now, the hell’dja mean about a shotgun wedding, dude?” Rikki asked, looking up at his brunette friend.

“Got accused of being too scared of Marissa to make an honest woman outta her,” Bobby answered with a shrug. “I’m not scared of her–I’m just not gonna force her into something she doesn’t want.”

“So, ya meant whatcha said?” she asked, biting her lip nervously as she looked up at him.

“Every fuckin’ word, sugar,” the bassist answered. “Nekkid or Sunday best, the middle of Town or right here in the yard–I’m not afraid of tying the knot, but I’m not doing it just ’cuz it’s what the townsfolk want.”

Marissa couldn’t help the smile that lit up her face.

“If I were afraid of that kinda shit, I wouldn’t have proposed to Mishy in the Waxing half of 1989,” he told her.

“And that’s something else that’s been on my mind,” the young Witch sighed. “What’d happen, if we were to wed now, then ya wound up getting taken back to your Time?”

Gently cupping her cheek, Bobby swore that if he were given a choice, he was gonna be by her side. Whether that meant he stayed in the nineteenth Century with her, or she came into the twentieth Century with him, he didn’t care. Like with marrying her in the first place, he was leaving that up to her, if the Fates didn’t take such a choice outta their hands.

None of the guys sitting at their feet could help a smile as he ducked his head and gave her a sound kiss. Even though he lingered long enough to make the townsfolk consider it indecent, the action still conveyed his feelings and then some like he Intended.

After they’d separated, Marissa took a deep breath before admitting that she wasn’t necessarily opposed to getting married. She’d told even the younger brunette that she didn’t wanna go beyond handfasting ’cuz she wanted to be certain whoever wound up becoming her husband was in it for the long haul. Unlike a divorce, splitting up after handfasting was a lot simpler and didn’t cost a penny since it was basically just a stated Intent made by both spouses.

However, like the man sitting next to her, she didn’t wanna legally wed ’cuz she was forced into it by some outside party. Even though women technically didn’t have rights in 1839, she wanted to be able to make her own decision. That went for not only _who_ she married, but _when_ such an event actually took place. If she married the next Day or a decade from now, she wanted a choice in the matter.

“Hey, I’ve already said it’s not happening, if you’re not willing,” Bobby told her. “Just like that Night a couple weeks ago.”

“If I’d said no, you’d have stopped–even if it resulted in blue balls–as opposed to taking my virginity by force,” she said, shooting him another smile.

“Damn, ya were actually a virgin?” the drummer asked.

“Not that that’s a bad thing,” Bret said quickly. “It’s just that in 1989, most girls aren’t long before they ever meet any of us.”

“Yeah, I was still a virgin up till that Night with Bobby,” the young Witch laughed. “I refused to give something so preciousta a man I didn’t love, or I’d have given it to Richie.”

Said brunette turned pink and averted his gaze.

“Ya know I don’t like toying with others,” she said, giving him a stern look.

“I know that,” Richie told her. “But I’m not gonna deny that I’ve lovedja for Years and that I’m kinda jealous of Bobby.”

The older brunette merely held up his hands, even though he didn’t bother trying to hide his grin.

“You’ll find your special someone eventually,” Marissa chuckled, reaching out to snag his hand. “And if ya don’t, count it as a Blessing since at leastcha won’t have a bitch stringing ya along.”

Even Rikki’d to admit that she’d a point in what she said, ’cuz being led on like that wasn’t fun for anyone. In fact, such a case’d led to one of their biggest hits as a band before they were swept back in Time. Actually, that song’d wound up topping the charts for three weeks as of Christmas Eve last Year. Their record label’d insisted that releasing it as a single’d turn out to be a mistake, but it hadn’t.

Sensing her Curiosity, Bobby got up just long enough to head into the cabin. Upon his Return, he held Bret’s twelve-string in one hand, his bass in the other. He said that he could play the rhythm riff well enough, if his friend didn’t feel up to it, but he wasn’t singing without at least part of the accompanying Music.

Bret was quick to take his guitar, saying that he kinda needed something cathartic right about now. If letting out any pent-up angst by playing one of their most heart-wrenching songs, he was all for it. After all, it was better than letting that angst out in the form of a brawl with even Richie. Besides, after such a taxing Morn, he didn’t thing any of them needed to be taking anymore swings at even a Tree. They needed to unwind so they could eventually head to bed since it was already getting late.

None of them noticed that there were a couple people hiding just far enough into the Tree line to avoid being easily seen. If they’d noticed, those folks wouldn’t have left without at least some black eyes for daring to trespass on Marissa’s Land.

And if they’d known the Intent of those parties, they’d have prolly killed them and buried their bodies up high in the Hills.


	13. Twelve

Early the next Morn, everybody in Marissa’s tiny cabin was startled awake by a fierce banging on the front door. Accompanied by a loud demand that the occupants open up or be burned alive, the banging was hard enough to shake the entire cabin. In fact, the Futuristic trio almost thought they were in the middle of an earthquake till they registered that incessant screaming.

Growling as he tossed the covers off himself, Bobby barely paused to grab and don his jeans. To be quite honest, he looked like a disheveled version of the devil incarnate as he dropped down from the loft, rather than climbing down the ladder. He didn’t like being so rudely awoken, especially when he hadn’t gotten to bed till late. Such an occurrence always set him on the Warpath, and today was no different in that respect, especially after yestermorn.

“Who the hell died and left _you_ King of the Universe?” the bassist snapped, instantly recognizing the bastard he’d decked as soon as he ripped open the door.

“You’re _gonna_ make an honest woman outta that bitch, or ya can get outta Tennessee,” the bastard growled.

“On whose orders?” Bobby asked. “’Cuz I thought I made it quite clear that I’d do no such thing unless that’s what _she_ wanted.”

“You’re bedding the bitch, so you’ll wed her!” he snarled just as he spotted the Sheriff behind him.

The bassist simply reacted, his fist landing against his cheek this Time. “Call her a bitch one more Time and see how quick I rearrange your face, asshole!”

“Bobby, that’s enough,” Rikki said, jerking his arms behind his back. “I don’t like his choice phrasing either, but don’t give the Sheriff reason to arrestcha, at the least.”

He let out such a low growl that even said Sheriff took a few steps back.

“If he’s gonna keep growling like that, he can do whatever he wants,” the Sheriff said. “I’ve a wife and children of my own to go back home to.”

Bobby managed to shake off his friend, ignoring the young Witch climb down from the loft after getting dressed. He didn’t even pay attention to Bret moving to shield her with his own body as she finished buttoning the shirt she’d snatched up from next to her bed. All he cared about was finding out who was demanding they get married as if her father’d found out she was no longer a virgin by finding out she was pregnant.

According to the Sheriff, there were two witnesses who claimed to’ve overheard last Night’s conversation. They’d heard Marissa admit to no longer being a virgin, and that he’d been the one to take her virginity. Now, they were required to wed so that–on the off-chance she conceived–there’d be no literal bastards running around later on.

The bassist snarled at the bastard he’d decked, somehow getting the feeling that he was involved in that getting back to the Sheriff. His suspicion was confirmed when said bastard shot him a smug smile, despite the damage inflicted on his face.

Giving even the younger brunette a sharp look, Bobby told them he wasn’t marrying his own big toe without Calming down first. Whether by force or not, if he didn’t get what amounted to a cold shower to cool his boiling temper, he was gonna wind up killing somebody. In all Honesty, that somebody was likely to be the bastard he’d just decked for the second Time in as many Days.

“Touch me, and I’ll break your fuckin’ neck,” he warned the bastard after stomping into his boots.

“And we’re not even gonna try to stop him,” the drummer said.

“We’ve known Bobby for about a decade now,” Bret said as the Sheriff looked scared, but curious. “He’s a good guy at heart just like us, but push enough of his buttons, and he’s like a homicidal maniac.”

“And who’re y’all?” the Sheriff asked.

“Bret and Richard, or Rikki for short,” he answered.

Said taller blonde shot the bastard still smiling smugly a nasty look of his own. “You’d no right to stick your nose into any of this.”

“Oh, but I _did,”_ he retorted smoothly. “The bitch was supposed to marry me, but I’ll be damned if I marry a whore of a Witch.”

Rikki was the one to knock him on his ass this Time, and with a blow harder than either of the ones his friend had landed. “Consider that from Bobby as much as the two of us and Richie.”

The younger brunette glared at the bastard as he picked himself up, swaying from the dazing blow. He was ready to get a few of his own in, if only ’cuz he knew exactly who this bastard was. Only knowing he came from enough money to have all of them imprisoned for Life just for breathing stopped him from actually doing it.

Marissa’d tears of pure Rage coursing down her cheeks as she glared at the sum-bitch, herself. How on Earth her hands weren’t crackling like the Morn she’d met the Futuristic trio, none of them could say. She musta been fighting it to avoid being burnt at the stake, even though this asshole more than deserved to be fried. After all, earning herself a Death sentence for any reason wouldn’t do anyone any good.

It wasn’t much longer before Bobby was Returning from the Tree line, every bit as shirtless as before and his hair soaked. Even Bret didn’t dare ask how he’d gotten wet, the look in his eyes warning off anyone who dared to say anything stupid.

A mere two hours after Returning from grabbing the closest thing to a shower as he could, Bobby found himself a married man. Not only was there the simple Gold rings on his and the young Witch’s fingers, but there was the signed marriage license. It was that piece of paper, not either of them or any of the witnesses, that decreed her Mrs. Robert H. Kuykendall now.

Richie’s mother Georgine was the one who managed to whip up something resembling a celebratory dinner. It was his sister Dana who’d provided what amounted to a wedding dress, and only ’cuz the minister refused to officiate, if the bride was in breeches.

But none of them liked the downright evil smile on the face of the bastard who’d started all of this as they finished eating. The bassist was immediately suspicious, if only ’cuz he could tell he was up to no good. He didn’t know what else was up his sleeves, but he knew without question that he wasn’t gonna like it.

“Now, you’ve to consummate the marriage–with witnesses,” he announced, that evil grin never leaving his face.

“Andja can kiss my ass, mother fucker!” Bobby roared. “I’ll be damned if even my friends see such a thing, let alone if I publicly humiliate my new wife like that!”

“That’s seriously taking it too far, Drake,” Richie’s father said.

“It’s bad enough you’ve forced Marissa to wed by spreading word all over Town,” Georgine agreed.

“He _what!?”_ The bassist surged up outta his chair so fast, it flipped over backward behind him. “That’s it–no more Mr. Nice Bassist!”

“Bobby, no!” his new wife shrieked as he chased that Drake bastard outside.

“Relax, Marissa,” the Sheriff sighed, grabbing her shoulders. “I saw and heard naught beyond the wedding.”

Marissa’s jaw dropped as she turned to look up at him.

“Drake’s had this coming for a long Time,” he told her. “If not your new husband, then some other man in Town.”

“Everybody from ten miles around is fed up with his constant meddling,” Richie’s brother-in-law, Kegan, said. “It’s ’bout Time he got what he so grossly deserves.”

The young Witch was still shocked by the Sheriff’s words, even as she winced at hearing the racket from outside. Looking out the front door, they saw Bobby absolutely wailing the tar outta the idiot dumb enough to orchestrate today’s events. None of them’d be surprised, if the guy was dead by the Time he ran outta steam, not that he’d deserve any less.

Finally running outta steam, the bassist panted harshly as he finally pushed himself up from where he’d been straddling him. The next thing they heard was him hawking up a good one before spitting right in his more or less rearranged face.

How on Earth he managed to refrain from kicking him with what Bret and Rikki knew were Steel-toed boots, they didn’t know. All the same, he merely flopped onto the porch swing, both hands shoving his hair back as Marissa scurried out the door. She was concerned about him, given that Drake’d gotten a couple good blows in before he’d been overwhelmed. Luckily, other than a swollen cheek and black eye, her new husband was practically unharmed compared to his victim.

With the young woman officially married off and the worst of Bobby’s aggression fought out, the cabin was quick to clear out. Even the blondes headed to the Kotzen homestead to give them a Night of privacy for anything they wanted to do. No one could deny that they desperately needed it after such a couple stressful Days.

But even after the dust settled, martial Bliss was gonna be a while in coming for the seemingly Star-crossed couple.


	14. Thirteen

With the cabin cleared out aside from the newly, if forcibly wedded couple, Bobby heaved a sigh as he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. It’d been an insanely long Day, both mentally and physically, and he was just ready to zonk for the Night. Only being covered in sweat and blood from beating that sum-bitch’s ass kept him from falling asleep on the front porch.

The first thing he removed from his person once he went back into the cabin he’d been calling home was that damned wedding band. Marissa’d cocked a brow at him curiously, considering that pretty much every married person displayed such a fact by wearing their wedding band. Chuckling as he tucked it into his wallet for safekeeping, he made it clear that he wasn’t trying to deny they were wed by taking it off. He just didn’t want the constant physical reminder of how they’d been forced into the union.

It didn’t take her two seconds after he said that to pull the Gold band off her own finger and hand it to him. She said she’d still keep it for the occasional foray into Town, but she’d no Wish to wear it. And by putting them together, if one got lost, they’d both disappear into a Void.

Once the bassist’s wallet was hidden back with her other valuables like it’d been all Summer, they both grabbed clean clothes. Despite the fact that it was no doubt to be more than a lil chilly, they felt the need for a trip down to the River. They could always build up the Fire in the Wood stove and cuddle to warm up again.

“I just wanna apologize for today,” Bobby sighed as he unbuttoned his shirt, then unbuttoned the back of the dress she was still wearing for her.

“Bobby, you’re just as much a victim in this as I am,” the young Witch told him, turning to face him once the dress was unbuttoned.

“Ya got the one thing ya wanted most taken away from ya, and it all started with me being desperate to get my dick wet,” he protested.

“And you’d _your_ Wish of actually giving me a choice stolen from you,” Marissa reminded him. “I could see in your eyes thatcha wanted to beat him senseless when ya first opened the door.”

“Yeah, being told I was expected to fuck ya with an audience was the last straw for me,” the bassist grumbled, shucking his shirt. “Not that making such a demand woulda done him any good, and not ’cuz you agreed to it or not.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you’d have taken yet another choice from me?” she asked, her grin saying she was trying to get him to laugh.

“I woulda, but not for the reason ya think,” Bobby answered, managing a chuckle.

The young Witch cocked a brow again as she shoved off the top of Dana’s dress.

“I can’t even get it up with just Bret and Rikki around,” he told her. “No way am I gonna be able to with some bastard I’d rather torture and slaughter watching everything.”

“Get it up?” Marissa asked, confusion marring her features.

“Show physical arousal, sweetheart,” the bassist explained. “That’s what we say in 1989–that a man either can or can’t get it up.”

Glancing down at his crotch as he unbuckled his belt, she cocked her head thoughtfully. “I don’t imagine it’d be very easy to consummate a marriage, if ya can’t get it up.”

Laughing as he stripped off his jeans, Bobby corrected her on that assumption by saying such a thing was pretty much impossible. Even half-hard, he’d so much trouble trying to enter a woman that he may as well not even bother. He usually wound up accidentally hurting whatever woman he was with, not to mention himself. If neither party wound up hurt, they’d wind up frustrated, which’d only worsen matters.

Allowing him to help her down to the Water’s edge once she was nude, Marissa admitted that definitely wouldn’t be good. What with the stress of the last couple Days, she needed a way to relax. If that was true for herself, she assumed it was safe to say that was true for him, too.

Gasping as the cold Water rose higher up his legs with every step he took into the River, the bassist agreed wholeheartedly. If he attempted a romp and couldn’t get his rocks off, he was gonna turn into an even meaner mother fucker than he’d been earlier. Subjecting her to such a thing wasn’t what he wanted to do, and especially not on their wedding Night. He considered it too special a Night to do that to her or any other woman, no matter what’d led to the preceding wedding.

Besides, after such a long Day, Bobby was simply too exhausted to care about sex at the moment. That wasn’t to say he never wanted it again, but that he’d prolly fall asleep in the middle of it tonight. He definitely didn’t wanna live up to _that_ particular male reputation on such a significant Night in their Lives.

The young Witch agreed that postponing a marriage consummation was the better fork in the path to take, so to speak. He was already heavy enough when he went limp after an orgasm and could at least somewhat support his own weight. She grimaced at the Thought of him going dead weight atop her since she wasn’t strong enough to roll them over so she could push him off. Laughing, he told her that him being on top wasn’t the only position they could use, but he’d show her what he meant when next they went at it. Descriptions could go a long way, but this was something easier to show, rather than tell.

Once they’d gotten cleaned up, the newly-wedded couple waded back up to the riverbank. They were quick to dry off and get dressed in the clothes they’d brought with them since they were shivering. Bobby then picked his bride up since he was able to move faster, cradling her like an infant as he carried her. Her right arm was looped around his neck, her left hand holding out the lantern for him as their dirty clothes draped over his shoulders. Both prayed that their Lives’d settle down soon, if only so they wouldn’t be fighting with each other or anyone else.

A mere week after their forced wedding, things’d Calmed down quite a bit for Bobby, Marissa, and all their friends. One thing that added to the sense of Serenity was the Sheriff making a trip out to her isolated homestead three Days after the wedding. It was an unexpected visit, but the news he brought was good, as far as they were concerned.

The local Justice system’d decided to arrest that Drake sum-bitch for assault. He’d no right to touch the young woman in Town that Morn last week, and the Sheriff’d managed to pull a few strings. Not even the guy’s family being loaded could save him from being arrested and charged.

Heaving a sigh of relief, the bassist’d pulled her against him for a hug, not trying to deny her when she tilted her head back for a kiss. That was reassuring to the Sheriff, who’d noted their missing wedding bands, but hadn’t gotten a chanceta ask about that. At least they weren’t trying to deny their union, whether it’d been consummated or not.

“Oh, we’re not denying being married,” Bobby chuckled once he got his chanceta ask. “We just don’t want more reminders of how it was forced on us than necessary.”

“Regardless of religious choices, those wedding bands may as well be Cursed,” the young Witch agreed. “Why have ’em poisoning what lil good’s in our marriage by wearing ’em when we don’t have to?”

“Point taken, ma’am,” the Sheriff said with a chuckle of his own.

“That being said…” Her young husband reached into his pocket for something. “No one ever said the symbol of our marriage _had_ to be rings.”

Bret’s and Rikki’s eyes widened when they saw what he pulled out.

“I’ve had this for Years, and till this Summer, I pretty much never took it off,” the bassist said, draping something around her neck. “I don’t give up my favorite things lightly, and this is my favorite necklace.”

Marissa managed to lift the Charm resting on her upper chest once it was fastened, her mouth dropping open as she realized it was a guitar.

“Holy shit,” the drummer breathed.

“That seals it for me,” his blonde compatriot said. “His grandfather gave him that before his Death, and he swore he’d never give it to anyone he didn’t love with every fiber of his very being.”

Richie and the Sheriff both gaped slightly as the significance Dawned on them.

“Well, I’d give her Mom’s ring, if she liked it,” Bobby chuckled. “But I don’t have said ring, and you’re definitely not wrong about my necklace.”

“If that necklace really means that much to ya, young man, even I’ll take it as an acceptable token of marriage,” the Sheriff chuckled.

He assured him that the necklace he’d just draped and fastened around his wife’s neck really _did_ mean that much to him. Even if Marissa hadn’t pulled him down for another kiss when she did, he wouldn’t have gotten into why. Something told him that this guy wouldn’t approve of his mother having gotten divorced, even though his father’d abandoned the family, and later remarried.

Once the Sheriff’d departed, leaving just their small group, Richie couldn’t help his Curiosity. The bassist sighed as he settled with his wife in his lap, seemingly feeding off her Strength. Not even his friends knew about this, ’cuz it wasn’t an easy thing to talk about.

Bobby explained how his father’d accused his mother of infidelity when she turned up pregnant for the third Time. Despite the fact that neither’d done anything to prevent another child, he’d refused to accept that he was the father and taken off. As it turned out, his father’d been the unfaithful party, but his mother hadn’t known till after her divorce was finalized. Still, it was that divorce that’d led to his grandfather playing a dual role in his and his siblings’ Lives till he was three. It was then that his mother’d remarried, which was why the man he called Dad was his stepfather.

The young Witch gently rubbed his back once she’d turned so she was straddling him. Feeling the torment that still resided deep in his very Soul made her ignore how suggestive their position was. He needed the Comfort, and while she could feel his bulge against her, she could also feel that he wasn’t aroused.

“We never knew that,” Bret said, gesturing between himself and the taller blonde. “But it certainly explains a lot.”

“We affectionately refer to Bobby as the band slave-driver,” said taller blonde chuckled. “Which he’s proven by being the figurative whip-cracker all Summer.”

“But he’s dedicated to more than just the band,” the shorter blonde continued. “Let him grow to care about, let alone love someone, and what’d normally be just a heated argument goes straight to bar room brawl.”

“What can I say? I refuseta be my dad, regardless of what Century and State I’m in,” Bobby said.

“If I’d any doubts aboutcha as husband material before, consider ’em gone,” his fellow brunette chuckled.

“Hey, just ’cuz I don’t normally talk about this shit doesn’t mean I’ma make those same mistakes,” he laughed.

“I should hope not, but only Time’ll truly tell,” Richie reminded him.

“Fair enough,” the bassist agreed, nodding as he let his wife up from his lap.

Considering they’d been about to get started on the daily chores when the Sheriff rode up, they all started grabbing boots. Each of them took a trip to the outhouse on their way out to whatever task they were taking on. All the guys waited for Marissa to take her turn, each of them still holding the mindset that the women went first.

With those basic needs taken care of, they all split up to deal with the Animals first. Bret and Bobby tackled the Horses and their care, Rikki and Richie teaming up to tackle the Pigs. Since the Chicken coop’d recently been cleaned out, the young Witch set to feeding the Feathered fiends.

But as they took care of those things before moving on to the Garden and Orchard, none of them realized what was just around the corner for them. They were all well aware of the Universe working in Mysterious ways, but they weren’t expecting to have a choiceta make. And they certainly weren’t expecting the newlywedsta have the biggest choicesta make, which’d shape the rest of their Lives.


	15. Fourteen

Another week passed after the arrest of the bastard who’d essentially forced the couple into marriage. Things seemed to be more or less as Calm, quiet, and peaceful as they’d been up to that foray into Town for supplies. Bret and Rikki still slept in their cots downstairs unless the newlyweds ran them off to the Kotzens’ homestead for the Night. Richie continued splitting his Time between the two homesteads, more of it seemingly spent with his Sister Witch’s group than not.

Yet another long Day was spent caring for the Animals and harvesting what they could. It was pretty obvious that the Seasons were Changing–if the cooler Weather didn’t say so, the colored and falling leaves certainly did. There wasn’t much Time left to harvest and store what’d hopefully be enough to feed at least four through the Winter.

Following supper and taking turns with grabbing baths on the Eve of October thirtieth, the group was gathered around the Wood stove. The musicians’d been working on a couple possible new songs in their spare Time, and they Intended to show one of them off. All three of them knew they were bound to have to explain what some of the lyrics meant, but that wasn’t a problem for any of them.

_“When I hear the Music…Lawd gon’ let it plaaaa-aaaay,”_ they chorused, their instruments at the ready.

_“Somethin’ like that,”_ Bret chuckled, ripping into what’d most likely be a lead riff.

His rhythm section joined him moments later, the drummer before the bassist.

“I’m liking it,” Richie said with a chuckle of his own.

“Very Southern, indeed,” Marissa laughed.

_“Didja ever get up on the wrong side of bed with an achin’ head and just fall apart?”_ the front man sang. _“You’re running late, the boss is bitchin’, it’s cold outside, and the car won’t start… Well, I don’t mean to bitch, I swear, ’cuz we all got our crossta bear…”_

_“…but when I hear the Music, all my troubles just fade away–when I hear the Music, let it play, let it play! When I hear the Music, sure as Darkness, I can see the Day–when I hear the Music, let it play…let it plaaaay!”_

Bobby and Rikki couldn’t help their grins as all three of them rounded out the chorus, the former’s bass riff more prominent than most of their songs.

_“Life’s just rented Space gettin’ laid to waste when the lines on my face say I’m growin’ older…”_ Bret continued by himself before they joined him again.

_“Just a stitch in Time–gonna save my mind when the weight of the World lies on my shoulders! Yeah, well, soon I won’t have a placeta fit, but I’ll cross that Bridge when I come to it!”_

Aside from repeating the chorus, they really didn’t have much to it beyond that. Since that was the case and it still needed some fine-tuning, they decided to cut themselves off after that chorus repetition. Even still, they were met with a short round of applause as they muted strings and stilled cymbals.

Marissa couldn’t resist moving to give her husband a sound kiss, much to everyone’s amusement. He was clearly at his happiest when he was able to express himself, as were his friends. The fact that they were all clearly talented only added to the impression they made on their listeners.

Looking over at Richie, the bassist handed off his instrument before reaching behind the shorter blonde. He’d gotten the man who might as well’ve been his brother-in-law in on this one, and their efforts sounded pretty good so far. The main thing was that he Intended what he was about to play, himself to be done on a completely different instrument. However, Bret’s twelve-string’d have to work for the Time being, like it or not.

_“Well, I…see him on the TV, preachin’ ’bout the Promised Lands… He tells me to believe in Jesus, and steals the money from my hand… Some say he was a good man–Lord I think he sinned, yeah, yeah…”_

The front man’d kept quiet for about twenty seconds after his brunette friend had started playing, and after that, the Music kicked up.

_“Twenty-two Years of mental tears, cries a suicidal Vietnam vet, who fought a losin’ War on a foreign Shore to find his country didn’t want him back,”_ he continued, now looking a bit angered on top of saddened.

The young Witch couldn’t help a wince as she gently squeezed his shoulder, despite not quite getting what he meant.

_“Their bullets took his best friend in Saigon, our lawyers took his wife and kids, no regrets…in a Time I don’t remember, in a War he can’t forget…_ He cried, Forgive me for what I done there, ’cuz I never meant the things I did…and gimme somethin’ to believe in, if there’s a Lord above… Ah, gimme somethin’ to believe in–oh, Lord, arise…”

Even Richie could feel his pain as he easily picked out the bass riff he and the older brunette’d worked on together, even though it wasn’t exactly his style.

_“My best friend died a lonely man in some Palm Springs hotel room… I got the call last Christmas Eve, and they…told me the news…”_ the front man sang, his throat tightening as his eyes watered.

_“I tried all Night not to break down and cry as the tears rolled down my face… I felt so cold and empty, like a lost Soul outta place…”_ he continued his rhythm section singing along with him.

_“And the mirror, mirror on the wall sees my smile–it fades again…”_

Said rhythm section joined him again for the short chorus, even Richie lending his voice for a higher backing line.

_“Sometimes I Wish to God I didn’t know now things I did know then… Road, ya gotta take me home…”_

Bret didn’t bother trying to play a solo since he wasn’t anywhere near the guitarist that CC or even the younger brunette was. If and when he ever got back to 1989, he’d let said Cracker Jack of a blonde worry about that part. Granted, that was a mighty big if, but as suggested by the lyrics he was singing, he needed something to put his Hope and Faith in.

_“I drive by the homeless sleepin’ on a cold, Dark street, like bodies in an open grave…underneath the broken old neon sign that used to read,_ Jesus Saves…” the front man sang once the Music died so only Bobby was playing.

_“A mile away live the rich folk, and I see how they’re livin’ it up… While the poor, they eat from hand-to-mouth, the rich drinkin’ from the Golden cup! And it just makes me wonder why so many lose, so few win, ha!”_

Marissa was surprised by the Anger that Returned to his voice, especially as he barked out that last word. Clearly, the World was a far more different place than she’d imagined in the Future. Not just from having things like electricity and indoor plumbing, but with social issues, too. And those social issues somehow seemed worse than any to be encountered in the nineteenth Century.

_“Gimme somethin’ to believe in! Gimme somethin’ to believe in, if there’s a Lord above… Gimme somethin’ to believe in–oh, Lord…”_

_“Gimme somethin’ to believe in…”_ the rhythm section echoed.

_“You take the high road, and I’ll take the low road…”_ Richie sang in his higher, blusier key.

The young Witch couldn’t help her smile, although it was somewhat sad, as they all repeated their respective parts three or four Times. All their voices blended in a perfect Harmony, which she supposed was supposed to happen with a band. Course, she was completely ignorant on such things, so she’d have to ask her husband sometime.

_“Yeah, sometimes I Wish I didn’t know now things I did know then, yeah… And gimme somethin’ to believe in, yeah, yeah…”_

After giving the Futuristic trio a bit to compose themselves, the ignorant pair couldn’t bite back their Curiosity. Several things that’d been mentioned were foreign to them, so they didn’t make even half a lick of sense. One thing was the mention of a War on a foreign Shore, given that they’d gotten a brief explanation on cars before.

With their instruments set aside, they geared themselves up to get into those new explanations. In 1839, the Civil War was still decades in coming, rather than a thing of the Past. They’d to explain that part before they could get into not only how much more Land America took up, but how they partnered with foreign countries. Everything from trading goodsta helping overseas countries fend off invaders was on the table.

Richie and Marissa were enthralled as they explained those things, especially at the explanations of the World, Korean, and Vietnam Wars. Both of them winced at the Thought of men dying thousands of miles from home, many to never make it back in Death.

Bobby gently squeezed his wife’s waist where she sat in his lap once again as they moved on through the seventies and eighties. All of them agreed that drugging and drinking could be fun sometimes, but it oft got outta hand. One big case in point was one of their fellow rock stars overdosing on a stronger form of opium, dying from it, and being brought back to Life. That’d happened a lil over a Year and a-half previousta End of the tour they’d gotten home from before waking up in her cabin.

“In a lotta ways, the Future’s better,” he admitted.

“Well, better in the sense of Life being easier in a lotta ways,” Rikki corrected him with a chuckle.

“I think they got what I meant,” the bassist retorted.

“More or less, yeah,” his wife admitted.

“But for all that it’s better in a lotta ways, the Future’s also worse,” Bobby told them.

“Yeah, there’s more waysta make money, but what good is it, if a dollar’s not worth as much?” the drummer asked.

“And sure, having better medical science’s awesome, but with that and better technology comes things worse than opium,” Bret agreed. “And don’t even get me started on the social Justice issues and whether I agree or disagree.”

“No Wonder y’all took to our Lifestyle like Ducksta Water,” Richie mused.

“Pretty much,” the front man said, nodding.

“Granted, we’d still like to get back to 1989 eventually,” Rikki admitted.

“We might have new friends–and enemies–here in 1839, but we’ve still got our families in 1989,” the bassist told them. “And no doubt they’ve been worried sick ever since we just disappeared.”

None of them got a chanceta say another word before a blinding Light flashed through the cabin. Each of them let out a startled cry as they shielded their eyes as much as they could. Only when the Light dimmed did they peek out from behind their arms–and get the shock of a Lifetime.

Richie and Marissa both scrambled to kneel like a man proposing to his girlfriend. Their right hands were fisted over their hearts, their left hands held behind their backs as their heads bowed. Neither dared breathe a word to the pair of figures who’d appeared when that Light’d dimmed. It was more than a lil eerie, especially to the Futuristic trio, but even they didn’t dare breathe a word.

“Rise, faithful children,” the woman chuckled.

Almost instantly, the pair rose into what the musicians’d equate to the military’s _at-ease_ position.

“You’ve done well in your shared task,” she said, a smile curving her lips. “Now, you’ve a choiceta make, if ya Wish a reward.”

“Forgive my rudeness, but who the hell’re _you?”_ Bobby asked, rising to move to his wife’s side.

“Bobby!” said wife gasped. “You’re lucky ya asked her Forgiveness before ya said that.”

“Yea, she’s right, although I’d have forgiven, even if ye hadn’t “ she laughed.

Bret and Rikki intelligently kept their mouths shut so they wouldn’t get themselves in trouble.

“To answer your inquiry, child–I’m the Morrígan, Celtic Goddess of War, Death, Fate, Sovereignty, and much more,” the woman said.

He couldn’t help how his eyes widened. “My sincerest apologies.”

“Again, I’d have forgiven, even without your previously asking for it,” the Morrígan chuckled. “I know you’re still learning about Paganism, and I take no offenseta those trying to learn, if only to show the proper Respect.”

Even the blondes heaved sighs of relief when she said that.

“That being said, ye were granted your Wish from one of your songs– _Back to the Rocking Horse,_ I believe ’twas called,” she told them.

“Well, this isn’t quite what we meant with that song,” Bret laughed.

“We meant going back to being carefree kids, MiLady,” Rikki chuckled.

“So, we Deities’ve a sense of humor,” the powerhouse of a Goddess retorted with a grin.

“I don’t think any of us can argue with that,” he agreed.

All of them murmured their agreement before quickly shutting their traps. Even the Futuristic trio were intelligent enough to figure out that even a single Deity wouldn’t appear to a human without a reason. They didn’t know what that reason could be any more than they knew the identity of her companion. However, they all got the feeling that they were about to get answersta their unasked questions.

It turned out that the Time’d come for Bobby, Bret, and Rikki to Return to the Time period from whence they’d come. The only one who’d get to remain here in 1839 was the bassist, and that was only ’cuz he’d found and taken a wife. The Morrígan and her companion were leaving that choice up to him, but they made one thing clear. Whatever decision he made, it was permanent–he wouldn’t be able to Return to 1989, if he didn’t do so now alongside his friends.

Glancing down at the young Witch, he felt his heart skip a beat at the same moment it twisted painfully. While he hadn’t said _I love you_ any more than she had, he didn’t wanna be separated from her. He certainly didn’t want that to happen and her be long dead in his own Time period.

Clearing her throat, the powerhouse of a Goddess drew all their attention back to her. She said that should he chooseta Return to 1989, that’d open up a choice for both Marissa and Richie. Again, the choice they made would be permanent, but it’d be entirely up to them. Nobody was being forced into anything, and she wanted them to understand that.

“All right, in that case, what choice’re they getting?” the bassist asked curiously.

“Should ye chooseta Return to your own Time, Marissa’ll be given the choiceta stay here, or go with ye,” she answered.

“No question, MiLady,” Marissa spoke up. “If he goesta 1989, I’m going with him.”

“Are ya serious?” the drummer asked, just as surprised as his friends.

“I’m ridiculed, shunned, and Feared here,” she told him. “WhyddaI wanna remain where I’m forced into marriage as a result of that, rather than go with the husband somewhat forced on me?”

_“Touché,”_ Bret agreed with a nod.

“In that case, now comes young Richard’s choice,” the Morrígan said, locking gazes with the younger brunette.

Nodding, he simply waited for her to continue.

“Neither Chronos, nor myself’re gonna make her face such a drastic Change alone any more than we did to Robert,” she said.

“So, my choice’s to remain here, or go with her so she’s a partner-in-crime, as it were,” Richie finished, her Intent Dawning on him.

“Yea, most faithful child,” the Goddess answered with a nod of her own.

A fiercely determined look settled over his face as he said he wasn’t gonna subject his would-be sister to such a Fate on her own. However, he’d one request that almost bordered more so on a demand. Before he allowed himself to be whisked into 1989, he wanted to say goodbye to his blood family so they’d know when and where he’d disappeared to.

The Morrígan and her companion both were more than agreeable to such a request. After all, like the newlywedded couple, whatever choice he made now wasta be permanent. He wouldn’t be able to Return to 1839 later on, nor would he be able to send back something to reassure his family that he was still alive and well. It was for that reason that she’d already compelled said family to ride over from their homestead, even though the Sun’d long since set.

Moments later, they heard boots stomping onto the front porch, followed by Rich, Sr.’s worried voice. His wife sounded borderline hysterical as she joined him, her mother’s Intuition clearly getting the better of her already.

Richie unbolted and opened the front door, wrapping an arm around each of his parents. Georgine let out a relieved sob as they all latched onto each other, the youngest man quickly pulling them inside. Both his siblings and their families all followed, which seriously crowded the small cabin. Only once the door was closed and bolted again did he Return his attention to the Deities. With a single nod, he Silently told her to go ahead and explain all, ’cuz he was still processing everything he’d been told or otherwise figured out on his own.

Naturally, his parents were upset at the Thought of never getting to see or otherwise Communicate with him again. At the same Time, they didn’t blame him for not wanting to sentence his would-be sister to enduring such a Fate alone. When they sat and thought about it, they supposed it wasn’t much different than Bobby having trusted companions with him when he was flung back in Time. The only real difference was that they weren’t given a choice in the matter like their son was. At least he was being given a choice, rather than just waking up in an unfamiliar Time and place, completely on his own.

Following a tearful and Emotional goodbye, Marissa was allowed to collect a few valuables that wouldn’t be _too_ outta place in the Future. A lotta folks kept family heirlooms, even in 1989, so no one ever need know how old her Ancestors’ Grimorires _really_ were. It might take Time, but she could rebuild her collection of Crystals for her Craft, although she insisted on keeping her collection of precious Metals. Beyond that, she’d pretty much naught of monetary or sentimental value, and she was perfectly content with that.

Once those things and the musicians’ instruments were gathered up, everybody bid one final goodbye. This was the start of a new Life for all of them, but none more so than the pair of Witches. After those final goodbyes were bid, the quintet disappeared, whisked into the Future.


	16. Fifteen

The entire Time Traveling quintet let out a collective groan as they appeared somewhere in 1989. Each of them felt lightheaded and nauseous, but thankfully, none of them lost their supper. Granted, they were all leaning on each other, somehow managing to hold each other up, rather than knock each other over.

Once they were able to straighten, the musicians weren’t surprised to find that they’d appeared in the lobby of the LAPD. They also weren’t surprised by all the gaping jaws that surrounded them. After all, they’d essentially appeared outta nowhere–literally outta thin Air–so such shocked expressions were to be expected. It was prolly the most normal part of this whole experience for any of those involved.

A soft, but musical chuckle from behind them made Bobby turn, which Enlightened him to part of the witnesses’ shock. The Morrígan and Chronos both stood before a Portal that looked distinctly like a moving piece of artwork.

Taking a step forward, the Goddess held something out to him, and he didn’t hesitate to take it. Leafing through the thin sheaf of papers, he realized she’d just handed him something he hadn’t even thought about. Aside from his and Marissa’s marriage license, there were a pair of Birth certificates. Not only that, but there was also a pair of social security cards, as well as a pair of ID cards from the DMV.

“Many thanks, MiLady,” he chuckled, glancing back up at her.

“No thanks’re necessary, child,” the Morrígan told him. “’Twouldn’t do to bring them here without proper documentation.”

“No, I don’t suppose it would,” the bassist agreed. “Granted, we’re gonna have to explain that to them later on.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to,” she said. “But only after ye answer the questionsta be posed by the police and get some rest.”

“Oh, no doubt about it,” Bobby laughed. “My brain’s already spinning, and we haven’t even started yet.”

“Just answer truthfully, and ye’ll do fine,” the Goddess assured him. “We, Deities may offer our own proof, should we feel the need and/or desire to.”

Nodding, he still offered his thanksta even Chronos before taking a deep breath and turning back around. There was a lotta ground to cover and what felt like not nearly enough Time. In addition to that, he wasn’t looking forward to having his Sanity questioned, even by those who’d just witnessed this particular scene.

Judging by the looks on their faces, Bret and Rikki weren’t looking forward to those things any more than he was. Not only that, but they weren’t looking forward to the inundation of press that’d undoubtedly follow. There wasn’t a doubt in any of their minds that they’d long since been reported missing. After three months with no word from them, they were likely even presumed dead at this point.

They were all herded into a massive conference room once the cops regained their wits. Many of the force’s top detectives were brought in, and even the Chief joined the small crowd. Settling at the equally massive table, Bobby pulled his wife down into his lap, Richie next to them.

“Mr. Kuykendall, Mr. Sychak, and Mr. Ream,” the Chief chuckled, shaking all their hands. “At this point, I’d almost thought the three of ya were figments of the public’s Imagination.”

“I think there’s a lil too much photographic evidenceta prove we exist, Chief,” he laughed.

“I think ya know what I meant,” Chief Daryl Gates retorted.

“Just like I think we know where this conversation’s about to go,” Bret dead-panned.

“Unfortunately, gentlemen,” he agreed.

“Well, you’re all bound to call us crazy, even if that other pair from downstairs offers up proof,” Rikki said.

The Chief cocked his brow curiously.

“Some old man and a young-looking woman that disappeared into some sorta Vortex, sir,” one of the patrol officers who’d borne witness explained.

“That was Chronos, the Greek God of Time, and the Morrígan,” Marissa spoke up.

“Sounds like it’s to be quite the tale,” he mused.

Bobby agreed that it was definitely a tale, and one so far-fetched, he barely believed it. If it hadn’t been the Reality he’d lived all Summer, he’d be asking–even begging–someone to haul him off to the nearest looney bin. As it stood, he still kinda thought he mighta been Dreaming all Summer and therefore still was.

Starting with when they’d first gotten home from their tour, they each ran through what they last remembered doing. None of them’d so much as grabbed a glass of Water, so they hadn’t been high and having a helluva mutual trip.

As they ran through what they’d woken up to, they didn’t realize that their stories up to that point jibed with that of CC and their manager, Howie. Their stories continuing to jibe with one another after that suggested only two things. Either they’d all concocted a joint fantastic tale to explain disappearing to parts unknown, or they were telling the Truth. No one was quite sure what to believe, so they could only listen for now.

“So, these two essentially played keeper for the Summer?” Chief Gates asked, gesturing to Richie and Marissa.

“If that’s how ya wanna look at it, yeah,” the bassist answered, nodding.

“I wouldn’t be surprised, if Richie admitted to hanging out around there so much for propriety’s sake,” Rikki said.

“Seriously, since it was 1839,” the shorter blonde agreed. “I mean, a look through the history books’ll tell ya that women weren’t allowed to be alone with men unless they were married back then.”

“’Cuz that’s true,” Richie told them. “Just like women wore such long skirts ’cuz letting a man see their ankles was grounds for marriage, if they were unwed.”

The Chief’s eyes widened. “Son, either you’re a serious history buff, or you’re all telling the Truth.”

“He means thatcha really love studying history when he calls ya a history buff,” Bobby chuckled.

“Well, I _do_ like studying history,” he said. “One simply repeats the same mistakes, if they don’t.”

“Then you’ll _really_ have fun once we get a chanceta take ya to the library,” the front man chucked. “You’ve over a Century to learn about.”

“We’re gonna need a few bottles of aspirin and a couple Cauldrons of headache tonic for these two, if we do that,” the bassist laughed.

They managed to get the conversation back on track, quickly filling in those present on what’d happened. Naturally, that led to explaining how he and Marissa’d wound up somewhat forced into marriage just a couple weeks ago. Showing the marriage license garnered a very relevant question for the couple, though.

Considering it was dated for October of 1839, they’d a couple options open to them. They could have their marriage license redone so that the Year listed was 1989 before it was filed at the courthouse, or they could essentially burn it and consider their marriage annulled. If they went with the latter option, they could always remarry at a later date of their choosing, rather than have it forced on them.

Giving it a few moments’ Thought, Bobby said he’d rather just have the marriage license doctored, as it were. After all, he wasn’t gonna consider his marriage null and void without going through a divorce, which he wasn’t about to do. It was simply too expensive and Time-consuming, which made it something he didn’t wanna deal with. One look into his wife’s eyes told him that she agreed before she ever nodded.

“Then we’ll have the license reprinted with a Change to the Year,” he told them.

“And all we’ll have to do’s sign the new one?” the young Witch asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Chief Gates answered, nodding. “I’ll make sure it gets filed at the courthouse.”

“And now that I’m back in 1989, covering any such costs won’t be a problem for me,” Bobby said.

“Really?” she asked, looking up at him.

“I’m not gonna claim any of us’re millionaires or anything without running by the bank, but we’re not gonna starve or be homeless ’cuz we can’t afford food and housing,” the bassist laughed.

“Speaking of housing, we’re gonna have to do some serious rearranging,” Bret chuckled.

“Got that right,” Rikki agreed. “Six in a two-bed, two-bath apartment’s gonna be a tight squeeze till we figure something else out.”

Given that they’d answered all the questions thrown at them and the shrink who’d been asked to sit in deemed them all sane, they were soon turned looseta head home. Bobby and his bride hung back just long enough to sign the new copy of their marriage license before joining the others. The original version was theirsta keep since it could be passed off as a vacation gag or something.

Down in the lobby of the LAPD, they were reunited with their manager and Cracker Jack guitarist. Both men were elated to see the trio alive and well, and they were delighted to meet the newcomers. Granted, they thought they were all nuts, but they were glad to have them back.

Upon arriving back at their apartment–which’d spawned no End of Awe from Richie and Marissa–the next hurdle presented itself. Mishy jumped up from the couch and launched herself into the bassist’s arms almost as soon as they walked through the door. Luckily, he’d warned the pair of Witches not to flip out, ’cuz she was likely to kiss him since she obviously wouldn’t have known what was going on. And he wasn’t disappointed in that assumption, although he certainly didn’t Return the kiss he got.

He was gentle about prying her off, taking care to put himself between the two women. No doubt she’d try going after the young Witch without hearing him out, and he wasn’t having that. Bret also made sure he and the drummer were ready to help subdue her, if need be.

“No more kissing me, Mishy,” Bobby said, his tone just stern enough to say he meant it without being too sharp.

“Why not? We’re engaged!” the ginger protested.

“As of two weeks ago, not anymore,” he told her, shaking his head.

_“What!?”_ Mishy veritably squawked.

“Hear me out, and you’ll understand why I got married,” the bassist said.

“Ya womanizing sum-bitch!” she screeched, immediately pummeling his chest.

“Or not,” Bobby sighed, managing to snag her wrists.

“Let go of me!” the ginger demanded on a sob.

“Then get out, and don’t bother coming back,” he told her. “I’ll ship all your shit–even everything I boughtcha–to wherever ya want it shipped to.”

Mishy’s jaw dropped as she realized just how serious he was.

“And hell, keep the ring, for all I care,” the bassist said, reaching up to rub his temples and he flopped on the couch. “You’ll get more use outta selling it than I’ll get outta keeping it.”

She looked torn between a heartbroken sob and going on the Warpath when Marissa settled beside him and pushed him forward to massage his shoulders and the back of his neck. Watching another woman touch the man she considered hers was Rage-inducing, and she couldn’t help it any more than she could help the innate urge to breathe.

Looking up after gently batting off his wife’s hands, Bobby wasn’t surprised to still see his now ex- _fiancé_ standing there. He merely took a deep breath and wrapped an arm around her protectively as the younger brunette took up a protective stance a couple feet away.

Once assured nobody was gonna get hurt, the bassist started to explain since she obviously wasn’t gonna leave till he did. Mishy’s jaw dropped lower and lower, the more of the tale he told, and he wasn’t the least bit surprised. In fact, he fully expected her to call him and both of the blondes who’d gone through the experience with him completely insane by the Time it was all said and done.

“Ya need to have your head examined!” the ginger exploded once he’d concluded his tale.

“I’d already be in a looney bin, not sitting here, if I’d lost my last screw,” Bobby told her.

“What?” Richie asked, looking confused.

“A looney bin’s the same thing as an asylum, and saying someone’s a screw loose is just one way of saying they’re crazy,” he explained.

“I feel like I need to take notes,” Marissa said.

“You’ll get it all figured out eventually,” the bassist chuckled.

“Well, I for one won’t figure out why ya married her,” his ex- _fiancé_ snapped.

“How ’bout ’cuz I didn’t relish being beaten to Death or burnt alive?” Bobby retorted. “’Cuz that’s pretty much what that asshole’d his sights set on–for both of us.”

Her jaw dropped once again and her eyes practically exploded from their sockets.

“I was in a completely different Time period and living by a totally different set of rules,” he sighed. “Am I sorry I technically cheated? Part of me is, but another’s not.”

Mishy started to snap at him again, only to get cut off.

“Enough, Mishy,” Rikki growled. “None of us knew if we were stuck there indefinitely, or if we’d eventually get to come back.”

“How couldja expect any of us to stay single the whole Time, if we _didn’t_ get to come back to 1989?” the front man asked.

“No doubt he and I woulda eventually found someone special,” he agreed. “We just didn’t really go to Town all Summer, and Richie’s sister was already spoken for, or we’d prolly be married, too.”

Apparently seeing that she wasn’t gonna win, the ginger practically snarled as she yanked the engagement ring off her finger. She warned him not to bother trying to get a second chance when this supposed marriage failed as she threw the ring at his face before storming out the door.

Sighing as he rubbed his temples again, Bobby was just glad that she was finally gone. He was once again so exhausted that he didn’t even care about getting laid, even though it’d undoubtedly help him relax. Not only that, but it’d no doubt help him sleep better once he finally passed out for the Night. And to think he still had his family to deal with since they’d no doubt be notified of his reappearance.

Chuckling, Bret and Rikki said they were gonna head out on the prowl with the shortest blonde of their band. They felt the need to relax and unwind, too, but they didn’t wanna overhear anything. It was for that reason that they even dragged Richie out the door with them after gathering their essentials.

The bassist let out a chuckle of his own as he pushed himself up from the couch. Grinning, he told Marissa that she might as well c’mon and get her first lesson in twentieth-Century Life. A nice, hot shower before bed was sounding like a damn good idea right about now. It was those words that caught her attention since he’d mentioned indoor plumbing plenty of Times. She was no doubt to be like a curious puppy for a while, but at least he was willing to teach her what he could.


	17. Sixteen

When he woke the next Morn, Bobby was acutely aware that he was alone before he even opened his eyes. He almost wondered if he really _had_ just been Dreaming as he bolted upright, barely pausing long enough to grab his boxers before darting out his bedroom door. Surely, he couldn’t have Dreamt that he’d spent his Summer working himself into the ground in a single Night.

Getting out to the kitchen brought a sense of relief the likes of which he couldn’t Begin to describe. Marissa was looking through the cabinets in a way that was like a woman on a mission crossed with a curious puppy. Her fellow Witch sat on a bar still at the lil breakfast bar that separated kitchen from living room with a smirk on his face.

Judging by how she moved through the decent-sized room, his wife was not only curious, but hungry. While he might still have yet to know every lil thing about her, he’d gotten to know her well enough to be able to tell certain things. And unless he was mistaken, it was roughly the Time of month she oughta be fertile. If he was right about that, she was prolly craving Chocolate, whether she realized it or not, and that wouldn’t help matters.

“Why don’tcha just wake him up?” the younger brunette chuckled. “You’re making my head hurt even worse with all your rooting around.”

“Ya must have a Death Wish, Richie,” she grumbled as she closed yet another cabinet door. “Waking Bobby before he’s ready to rise’s as bad an idea as waking me before I’m ready.”

“Yeah, and letting ya go hungry ’cuz neither of us know how to use this kinda stove’s just as bad an idea,” Richie retorted gently.

“Then you’ll be glad to know the best chef’s at least conscious,” the bassist chuckled, startling both of them.

The young Witch whirled with a gasp, looking absolutely delectable in the boxers and T-shirt she’d swiped outta his dresser.

_“Mmm,_ what a sight to wake up to,” he said, moving to give her a _good-Morn_ kiss.

“What is? It’s just whatcha call boxers and a T-shirt,” Marissa mused once they parted.

“Nothing sexier than a woman running around in my clothes,” the bassist told her with a grin and a wink.

“You’re incorrigible, Bobby,” she laughed, her face turning pink.

“Well, ya look even better in nothing at all,” Bobby admitted. “But I know I’m not getting that till late at Night after I throw Bret outta our room till we find our own place.”

Both Time-Traveling Witches looked confused as they watched him move to start a pot of coffee. As he went through the more familiar motions, he said that they didn’t necessarily have to live here with the rest of the band. Richie could if he wanted to, or they could find a place big enough for all three of them that’d still offer room to grow.

Marissa cocked a brow as she questioned what he meant, ’cuz while she thought she knew, she wanted it confirmed. Turning to face her once the device he’d been fiddling with was making a soft Sound, he was more than glad to explain.

In being a relatively young newlywed, the bassist didn’t necessarily consider himself ready to start a family. Should such a thing occur in the near Future, he wouldn’t try to argue it, but he didn’t Intend to actually try for a baby yet. But should such a thing happen, he felt they oughta have their own place as opposed to living with a bunch of wild, crazy bachelors who drank and did drugs.

“So, I’m not saying we need a house big enough for us, eight kids, and even Richie, too,” Bobby chuckled.

“Goddess, I damn sure hope ya don’t Intend to make eight children on me!” she told him.

“Well, it’s not exactly a necessity in 1989,” the bassist laughed. “Babies don’t tend to die during infancy as much, and it’s not like I run a farm where we need the extra hands.”

“Wait, infants really _don’t_ perish so young as often?” Richie asked, looking surprised.

“Remember what we said about medical science being better in 1989 than it was in 1839?” he countered.

The younger brunette nodded as he poured three mugs of what he knew to be coffee based on the scent.

“Medical science being better lowers the mortality rates in pretty much all age groups, as long as folks take care of themselves,” Bobby explained. “The ones who tend to die young’re those who don’t take of themselves, or already had something really wrong with them.”

_“Ahhhh.”_ He nodded as he took the mug he sat down in front of him as Bret emerged.

The bassist merely chuckled as he pointed at the coffee pot once he’d tapped the blonde’s shoulder. Nodding, he more or less zombie-shuffled over to it, yawning as he grabbed a mug from the cabinet over it. One look was all it took to tell that he was hungover, which was prolly just as true for Richie and the other blondes.

Just outta Curiosity, he slid the front man’s glucometer across the bar to him once he’d settled on the other bar stool. None of them knew whether the Life-saving spell that’d been cast on him was still working or not. It was entirely possible that it wasn’t, which’d mean either having to recast it or he’d have to go back on his insulin. Considering he hadn’t even thought of that, he thanked him for actually using his brain this Morn.

But before he could get set up, someone knocked on the front door that was pretty much right next to the fridge. Since he was the closest, Bobby moved to answer it, and he couldn’t say he was surprised to see all the immediate families of those who’d disappeared that Summer.

Laughing as his own mother let out a relieved sob and grabbed him for a Bear-hug, he managed to move so they could enter the apartment. He still told them to settle down, ’cuz while he knew they were ecstatic and expected it, some were still trying to sleep. As if that wasn’t enough, the vast majority of the group was hungover or likely to be. No doubt they wouldn’t want a bunch of racket, no matter how relieved and excited their families were.

“We thought all three of ya were dead,” his stepfather, Charlie, said as he closed the door behind them.

“I’m not surprised, Dad,” the bassist admitted. “Hell, I still feel like I’m Dreaming, even though Mama’s Bear-hug alone tells me I’m not.”

“Oh, so a kiss wasn’t enough?” Marissa asked with a chuckle, making the group realize there were a couple unfamiliar faces amongst them.

“I’m pretty sure I’m wrapped in a Python that suddenly grew arms!” he laughed, mindful of his volume.

“Wait, who’s this, lil brother?” his older sister asked.

“No easy way to say it, so I’ma be blunt,” Bobby told her, managing to wrap an arm around her. “This is my wife, Marissa.”

Just like he’d expected, his mother gaped and reached up to pop the back of his head. “Ya got married and didn’t even invite your mama?”

“Kinda didn’t have a choice, Mama,” the bassist said sheepishly. “Not when I was sucked back into 1839 and basically told get married, or be burned alive with the Witch.”

Naturally, the entire group was shocked, and he merely took a sip of his coffee as he gave them a moment to process that. He knew it was a shock to their systems–Gods only knew waking up in the Past’d been a shock to his and the blondes’ systems. Traveling back to the Time period they belonged in was just as much a shock after living a pioneer’s Life for the Summer.

Apparently believing him–or merely deciding to humor him–Bret’s mother started fussing over her only son. She knew that if he’d actually been whisked into the nineteenth Century, he should be dead. If not dead, then feeling as rough as before he’d gotten his childhood diagnosis.

Chuckling, Bret told her that he’d just started setting up to check his sugar for the first Time in three months. Given that he’d just woken up, h-e’d just poured his coffee and not even sipped it yet. There hadn’t been Time for him to check his sugar, let alone draw up and take a dose of insulin. He knew that–unless a certain spell was still working–his sugar oughta be through the roof after three months without the insulin he’d spent the majority of his Life injecting.

However, much to even his own surprise, that quick blood test proved his sugar to be in a relatively normal range. Rather than being well over five hundred like it shoulda been, it was right in the ballpark of one-twenty. It hadn’t been that low without insulin injections prolly since he was born and his umbilical cord was cut.

“What on Earth?” his dad, Wally, asked in shock.

“I’d say that spell’s still working,” Marissa chuckled.

“Wait, you’re seriously a Witch?” Bret’s sister Nicole asked.

“As is Richie,” she answered, nodding. “We’re still amazed that spell worked in the first place, never mind still is after crossing Time, itself.”

“Prolly ’cuz as long as we live, it doesn’t matter what Time period we’re in,” the younger brunette said thoughtfully.

“Could be,” Bobby agreed. “All I care about is that I didn’t have to help Rikki bury him in 1839 Tennessee.”

The currently-conscious blonde chuckled as his family looked horrified. “Took me only about a week to barely stay awake for ten minutes.”

His mother, Marjorie, wrapped him in a Bear-hug of her own.

“I’m still not sure Marissa and Richie get it entirely, but hey–they managed to save my Life, and that’s what matters,” he said.

“Not too sure how I feel about a pair of Witches casting spells on my boy, but you’ve a point, son,” his father agreed.

“Oh, trust me, I told Bobby that I didn’t necessarily think I’d take her as a lover, despite that,” Bret laughed. “But even though they command some serious Power that makes me wary, I’m not exactly scared of them.”

The entire group laughed as they admitted that they were glad to hear that he was at least wary. Fear wasn’t necessarily a bad thing–after all, a healthy dose of it’d prolly saved more Lives than it’d ever taken. Still, having a spell cast on him was undoubtedly better than what damn well coulda happened to him instead.

As he moved to finally start breakfast for even their collective families, Bobby wasn’t surprised that the focus quickly turned back to him. His mother was still irked that he’d gotten married without her in attendance, and he didn’t exactly blame her.

Sighing, he ran through the Morn of what’d become his wedding Day, and even the Day previousta that. He was equally unsurprised by the cacophony of gasps that rang out as he explained how they were told to open the door, or get burned alive. At least they were quick to realize that he really _hadn’t_ been given much of a choice in the matter. Not only that, but he’d went through with the forced wedding to save himself as much as his bride and friends.

He chuckled as said bride hovered close enough to watch as he cooked, but far enough back to stay outta his way. When asked if he Intended to have the marriage annulled, the bassist simply gave his big sister a bemused look. If he were gonna do that, he’d have done so when presented with the perfect opportunity the Night previous.

“Chief Gates asked that last Night, and we said no,” Bobby told her. “Cheaper and easier to just take him up on having our marriage license reprinted with 1989 on it.”

“Really?” Patty asked, looking as surprised as their parents and older brother.

“Yeah, really,” he answered, nodding. “I mean, that’s not to say that we won’t eventually have a wedding or vow Renewal ceremony for folks like you and Mama.”

The young Witch nodded as she helped him start passing out plates, Rikki and CC finally joining them.

“Might be better to do a vow Renewal on our anniversary, though,” the bassist mused. “’Cuz whether we get back in the studio soon or not, the three of us just got back to 1989 last Night.”

“Yeah, I can see how you’d need to readjust,” his brother, Butch, agreed.

“Not to mention we’ve to get Marissa and Richie acclimated to twentieth-Century Life in the first place,” Rikki chuckled sleepily as he hugged his own parents and sister.

“There’s definitely that, too,” Bobby agreed. “And that’s gonna take Time since they’ve over a Century to learn about.”

“And we’re not even including shit like possibly teaching them how to drive and taking them to get their licenses,” the front man added.

Marissa looked surprised at the mere suggestion of being taught how to operate one of the machines she’d ridden in the Night previous. Then again, she was used to living in a simpler, yet harder World where women didn’t even have the right to vote. It’d take a while for her to get used to having far more Independence than she’d ever had before, even though she was now a married woman.

As they settled at the bar and breakfast nook in front of the laundry room, as well as the living room, Patty finally noticed the necklace she wore. Gasping as she realized what Charm was on it, she turned a look on the baby brother who coulda been her twin. She knew their grandfather’d given him that necklace for his sixteenth birthday.

Chuckling, the bassist told her that she wasn’t hallucinating or anything of the sort. He’d given that necklaceta his bride since neither of them wanted to wear their wedding bands in 1839. Since they both considered those rings Cursed, but he’d naught elseta give her, he’d given her what he could. It bespoke just how much he cared for her, considering how much he treasured that necklace.

Even his mother, Lynda, could see that he wasn’t playing around when he said that. It was written all over his face and shined in his eyes as he gently pulled the woman in question down onto his knee. As they turned adoring looks on each other, no one could deny what they shared.

Once breakfast’d been consumed and the dishes’d been loaded into the dishwasher, everybody settled in to just relax and get to know one another. Bret’s family was still amazed by another check of his sugar proving it to still be in a relatively normal range. That just made them all the more welcoming toward the pair of Witches, which boded well for the band. At least they knew that once they got used to such familial additions, they wouldn’t treat them any differently than anyone else. None of them could ask for anything better, and that brought a smile to their faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who happensta be curious, the Intended model for the band's apartment's the 2-bed, 2-bath _Monaco Premier_ under the 3-D tours section. I didn't go into much detail, but that's 'cuz this story's come to an End for me.  
> ~Firefly
> 
> Link to Poison's Apartment–https://www.apartments.com/palazzo-east-apartments-los-angeles-ca/32ghtcd/


End file.
